


bluebird//gramon

by babycoxon



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babycoxon/pseuds/babycoxon
Summary: Damon and Graham are both in the winter of their lives, their hearts both belonging to someone who doesn't want it. Amidst their gloom, they find the warm springtime sun within the other.
Relationships: Damon Albarn/Graham Coxon
Comments: 31
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

g

_"You're just.._ _you're too much for me."_

That is what Isabelle said to me before she pushed me out of our front door. 

What does that mean? 

Her face was sad, but her eyes were cold as she said it. She didn't look at me for a few moments, as if she couldn't; but when she does it's as if she is staring winter into my soul. 

I asked her what she meant by that as she walked me to my car. Her hand was wrapped around my wrist, delicately, as if she was afraid to hurt me. She didn't respond for a while. 

_"You're too much for me, " she repeated," you are sick. I can't deal with it anymore. "_

Her words were emotionless. She seemed to lack any empathy for a man whom she claimed sick. No empathy for a man she said "I love you" to every day for seven years. She dropped my hand and stopped walking. I almost went to speak, but no words left my mouth. 

I didn't have words to say to her. My body felt as if it had been crushed under the weight of a million mountains, my blues and yellows faded into grays and blacks in an instant. 

She packed me a bag while I was in the shower. She said she didn't want me to need to come back for a while. I know she means, "please don't come back. I don't want to see you. I don't want to deal with you." She waved goodbye and went up the stairs, not even waiting for me to get into my car. 

Now I've found myself in a hole-in-the-wall bar in London. I don't remember how I got here, but I know I have nowhere to go. All of my friends are hers. My family doesn't talk to me anymore. 

Her words repeat themselves in my brain. Over, and over, over again like the tape stuck in my mother's car. Droning. 

_You are sick._

_You're too much for me._

_I can't deal with it anymore._

I don't know if I have had one drink or ten. The bartender tries to talk to me, but the words that leave his mouth only sound like ambient noise. He has long hair, tied into a greasy, almost ponytail and he hasn't shaved for a couple of days. The room itself smells like cigarettes, spilled beers, and the scent that erupts when you open your great-grandmother's coat closet. 

My head is too heavy for my neck to carry anymore. My eyes close as my face touches the counter, and they cry as my brain takes me back to our apartment, over all of the plans we had. The room that's now an office but we wanted to be a nursery one day, her brightly colored rugs, my paintings hanging in the hallway, despite my protest. 

She will probably sell her ring for this month's rent. 

Someone's body slips into the seat next to mine. Too close to me. They smell like the forest after it rains. It isn't an unpleasant smell at all, but my sheer proximity to this person is enough to make me want to faint. 

"Mate," his voice is deep, soft. He sounds as sad as I feel. Hesitantly, I look up to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?" 

-

d

It has been six or seven days since I last saw her. She told me she is going out of town for some time with her friends, but we both know that isn't the truth. 

I've picked up some nasty habits since she started seeing him. I don't eat often, but I do smoke too many cigarettes and spend too much time in my bed. I don't see my friends anymore. 

I picture him and her sometimes. The smiles he probably leaves on her face as he tucks her hair behind her ear. The kisses she leaves on his neck when they hug; the way she used to do to me. I think back to our wedding when I shook his hand and told him it was lovely to finally meet him since Justine had never stopped talking about how amazing her boss, Andrew, is. 

He is amazing. He's rich and he's handsome. He isn't rotting away in his sad little apartment, holding onto a dream he will never live, festering in his own self-doubt. He isn't miserable. He didn't drop out of college. He isn't me, and it's that simple.

I have decided I need to leave the house. Breathe some fresh London air-if you can call it fresh- go to the shops to buy a record or two, maybe get a meal of food that doesn't come from the vending machine at work. 

I don't end up leaving until eight-thirty. It's already dark outside, but the city lights reflecting on the snow gives the air a nice melancholy glow. I don't bother making myself look decent. 

"Damon," the warm voice of my neighbor, Susan or Susanna(I don't remember), calls from behind me as I pass through the lobby. 

I face her, throwing on a smile. "Hi." 

" I was beginning to think you'd died! I haven't heard you playing your music upstairs for a while, and I hardly even heard you walking! I got so worried. I'm just so used to you being loud." She comes closer to me, ready to embrace me. 

"I'm okay, " I croak as she throws her arms around me. She's a tight hugger, despite her small frame and arthritic bones. "Just haven't been home too much lately." 

"Okay, let me know if you ever need me," she smiles her gapped-tooth grin, squeezing me again. It hurts. "Always such a pleasure to hear from you." 

Her son, whose name I think may be Alex (though I hear her shouting for a Steven most days), reminds her that it's late. It's selfless of him to care for her the way he does, but I can't help but feel bad for him. I nod and she follows her son to the elevator, calling him impatient. 

My legs carry me through the winter streets of London to the cafe where I asked her to be my wife. I order her favorite meal; black coffee with biscuits and a plate of pancakes. The waitress tells me she's surprised to see me all alone as she pours me my coffee. 

Next, I find myself at the street corner where I told her I loved her for the first time. That memory is clear as day; a warm summer night after we'd been drinking, her hand in mine, her body wrapped in a loose sundress that didn't match anything else she had ever worn. I choke back a sob when I feel like I can hear her laugh and tell me to fuck off. 

Finally, the bar where I realized it. It's dirty and doesn't get much business. It is not nice by any standards at all-run down and dreary. But it's where I fell in love with her. 

Her spot is taken by a man, about our age, in a sweater that is too big for his body. I watch him for a moment as he takes another shot and lays his head down on the counter. Allen, the gross bartender who watched my relationship grow and falter, makes eye contact with me, sending me a half-smile. 

I sit down next to him. He doesn't budge. Allen hands me a beer. 

"Thanks," I nod to him, my eyes falling on the man next to me. His breath is shaky. 

"Mate," I clear my throat, causing him to look up at me. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," he whispers. He sits up straight, avoiding eye contact with either me or Allen. 

I force a chuckle, "Just making sure you aren't dead." He looks at me, unamused. 

He is quite pretty. His eyes are a similar brown to Justine's. Long, almost feminine eyelashes and a soft, pale complexion. His hair is falling into his eyes. I clear my throat again. 

"Sorry. "

"S'okay," he shrugs, resting his head in his hand. 

"Would you like a drink?" I ask, absentmindedly leaning in closer. I only notice when he leans back in his chair. 

"No, but thank you." He twiddles his thumbs, still avoiding eye contact. I nod and decide to just fuck off since he doesn't really seem to be in the mood to have some strange man talking to him in a bar he doesn't usually come to. 

"Where's the missus?" Allen asks as he cleans out a glass. I bite my tongue, trying not to break down. 

"Girl's vacation," I huff, drinking off of my bottle. "Figured I'd get out of the house. " He laughs. He knows about what really happens when she's gone, though I have never explicitly told him. He always asks where she is, though she hasn't come down here with me for a while. 

"Well, I hope she's having a good time. Miss that young lady," 

"Oh fuck off," I chuckle, "no you don't. She pukes on your rugs and never pays for her drinks or leaves tips. " 

"You miss her," he looks at me, his tone changing. "You miss her a lot. She treats you worse than she's ever treated my beat-up old place." 

I don't reply, I just take a swig off my beer and bite at the inside of my cheek. 

"Tell me about her," a soft voice arises after a few moments. I look to him, furrowing my eyebrows. I guess they call it liquid courage for a reason. His eyes meet mine for just a moment before they fall back down to his lap. 

"What?" 

"Y-your wife. Tell me about her. " His stutter makes me almost smile, though I know it's probably because of his nerves. 

I shake my head. " She isn't anything worth mentioning these days. " 

That is only half-true. She is the love of my life I think, but I don't seem to know her anymore. Even when she _is_ home, she doesn't spend much time around me. She's always working, drinking, or talking on the phone to whom she says is her mother. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask. He sighs softly, shrugging. His breath is still shaky as if he's about to cry. 

"I dunno. " 

I watch him for a moment. He is rather small, despite his height. His body language is shy, careful, afraid. 

"Her name is Justine. " 

-

Hi I don't have anything against Justine pls don't attack me 


	2. Chapter 2

g

Damon is his name. He's been with his wife as long as I was with Isabelle, but they got married three years into it. She has been poorly hiding her affair for nearly four years. 

He's drunker than I am and he's crying, but trying not to let me see. I feel bad for him. It isn't his fault. 

It is my fault Isabelle kicked me out. If I was different she would still love me, and I would have a place to lay my sorry head tonight. 

We have been talking for hours now. I think it's one or two AM, but Allen's clock is both wrong and hard to read. I left my watch beside my bed. Isabelle's bed. He's told me more than I've told him, but it's still more than I would have told him soberly. 

"Graham," Damon sniffles, "can I buy you another drink?" 

"D-Damon, I don't think it's a very good idea," I look him in the eye. We both have absurd amounts of alcohol in our bodies. He is apparently a regular here, and the bartender doesn't really charge him anymore. 

He hums, "we're both dying anyway." 

That sounds like something I would say. 

"You're drunk-"

"Shh Gra," -that's what Isabelle called me-"you are too. " 

I give up and let him get more drinks. 

Allen has already called us a cab, but I am not sure where to tell the driver to take me. I haven't spent a night alone in a very long time. But I guess I need to put myself in Damon's shoes; the man spends nearly every night alone, just hoping his love will come home one night not smelling like another man's cologne. He lives in a house with the ghosts of two people who formerly were in love, and only one of them has realized they don't love each other anymore. 

Damon is a touchy drunk, however. I have given up on keeping my hand out of his. 

"Graham," he hums again, "I like saying your name." He smiles ear to ear. It's rather refreshing, though I know his smile won't be there tomorrow, or even later tonight. I don't know him well and I don't know if I will ever see him again, but the thought still makes me sad. He has a couple of funny teeth, it makes me smile just a little bit. 

"I want to go home," he says directly into my ear, not taking my eardrums into consideration. 

I look at him. I want to go home to Isabelle so badly, to tell her I love her and I can't live without her. I don't think I can. But why would Damon want to go home? To an empty apartment that's full of reminders that his wife is as good as gone? 

"Come with me," he hiccups. 

I don't say anything for a moment. I like him, I feel safe around him- despite how drunk he is. It may also have to do with the amount of booze in my veins. But do I _really_ feel safe enough to go to his home? He seems too sweet to be a killer, but so did Ted Bundy. He probably just misses sharing a space with another human being. I've been too social today. 

"Okay."

The cab drops us off at Damon's apartment building. It's much nicer than mine was. He takes me through the car park and up an elevator. He tells me it's so he doesn't run into his neighbor, even though he already told me she's 70 and is definitely already in bed. 

His apartment is much nicer than mine, too. It's messy, but it doesn't feel chaotic. It smells like maple. 

"I will," he hiccups, " get you some blankets, and...and a pillow. The couch is comfy." I nod and watch him as he leaves. 

My eyes fall on the table in the entryway. It's littered with photos of him and who I assume are friends and a couple of photos from his wedding. His wife is pretty, and so was their wedding. They even have a guest book. The pages have polaroid photos of friends and family, notes from everyone, and stickers. It's depressing. 

"Graham!" He shouts from the other room, snapping me from my trance. 

"Y-yes Damon?" I ask, placing the book down and walking into his bedroom. It's cold and unkempt, clothes piled on the floor, the tv left on, and his bed has obviously not been made in a while. It reminds me of my college dorm. 

He appears out of what I assume is a closet with a blanket and a pillow. "I got it." 

He's charming. His blond hair isn't long but isn't short, it just kind of needs a trim. His face is a little stubbly, but his complexion is clear. His eyes are a deep ocean-blue, something I liked a lot about Isabelle. It isn't hard to stare into her eyes. 

He hugs me after I place my bedding onto his couch. I don't like it. He's strong and I am rather frail. 

"I'm sorry, girls suck," he huffs as he pulls away. I need to remember that he's drunk and I shouldn't take the things he says personally. 

I sit down, him following me. Ignoring it, I slip off my shoes and lay back in my seat. He pulls his feet up, keeping his eyes on me. I don't want to talk anymore. 

I think I'm dying. Damon doesn't shut up. I don't even know what he's saying at this point, the words just slur together. My head hurts and I don't think I've said anything since three. The sun is coming up, filling the living room. I'm not drunk anymore, but I need sleep and a glass of water. 

"I like you." He rests his head in his hand, looking up at me. His eyes are glazed over and bloodshot, his hair messy. "You're a nice person. " 

I shrug, "thanks, I guess. " I look back at him, though he's definitely asleep now. Thank God. 

-

I wake up to a woman standing in front of me. 

"Who are you?" 

My eyes focus on her. It's Justine. 

"He's my friend," Damon's voice calls from his bedroom. She furrows her eyebrows at me. 

"Why are you using that blanket?" 

I look down at it, realizing how nice it was. I just thought it was soft, and my buzzed brain just accepted it. 

"I-it's just the one Damon gave me last night." 

"Of course he did. He's not that bright," she says, turning away from me to close the blinds. "He should know what leaving these open is going to ruin my couch. And not to give my expensive things to strangers. " 

I shrug, sitting up. "Are you Justine?" 

"Yes. I was looking forward to being able to come home and watch television, relax, get over my jetlag." She's upset that I'm here. Damon walks in. 

"Babe, be nice. He's going through some shit." 

"How do you even know him?" 

"I have friends outside of your snobby rich ones. " 

I chuckle quietly to myself. Good on him. She looks at me. Shit. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Oh," _dammit_ "nothing." 

She huffs, "Damon, I just wanted to come home to see you. Let me know when he's gone." She storms off. 

"If you wanted to spend time with me you would start coming home," he mumbles just loud enough for me to hear. "I'm sorry. She's intense. She isn't usually that miserable to be around." 

I don't believe him. "It's okay." 

He shoots me a half-smile. "She thinks I've slept with you. " 

I scrunch up my face. "Why?"

"Because she slept with someone else last night," he says as if it's nothing, laying back into the couch. "Cheaters always accuse their partners of it. " 

I nod. Weird. "We're both men." 

"I know," he turns on the TV. "I'm bisexual so she assumes I've fucked all of my friends. In reality, it's none of them. "

I just nod. I've never met a bisexual person. Though, at this point, nothing Damon tells me shocks me. Isabelle said she didn't think it was a real sexuality, that you should just choose. 

"That's kind of rude." 

"She's shagging her boss." 

"Good point." 

It's silent for a while, and Damon has fallen back to sleep. He's changed his clothes since last night. He now wears plaid pajama bottoms and a sweater with stripes on the sleeves. He looks so peaceful, as if the last ten minutes hadn't happened. Justine comes back out, her frown still plastered on her face. 

"You should go," her voice is softer this time. 

"I'm sorry," I reply, standing up. 

"It's alright. Just sick of him thinking he can do what he wants," she chuckles. 

She's a wicked woman. Delivering back-handed statements with a smile. 

I shrug. "He's just lonely. Will you tell him I'll see him around?" 

She nods, following me to the door. "What is your name, by the way?" 

"Graham." 

She smiles. "I'll tell him. "

I look back to the couch, where he sleeps, then back at her. "Goodbye Justine, so nice to meet you. " 

The door closes without a goodbye. 

I don't know where the bar is from here, what it's called, nor do I have Damon's phone number. My car is still there, as well as my things. Shit. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a slur or two in this chapter, as well as a mention of self-harm. nothing too extreme but I figured I'd warn you:)

Graham is gone when I wake up. I didn't mean to fall asleep. That means the poor boy was left alone with Justine. She told me he was gone when she came out of hiding to get some water. 

"I'm sorry," she coos into my ear, rubbing my back. I ignore the smell of Andrew's cologne on her and lean into her chest. Her hand finds mine, interlocking her fingers with mine. I shrug. 

"I didn't recognize him, when did you meet him?" 

"Last night, " I sigh, laying back into the couch. "Met him at Hogg's. " 

"You're too nice to people. "

I look at her, knitting my eyebrows together. "What?" 

"He could have been a killer. Bars aren't really a great place to meet people. Especially not one where Allen works. " 

"He didn't kill me. He's just shy. "

"That's a common trait in killers, you know. " 

It's when she says things like that that I'm reminded why I love her. She isn't afraid of anything. I do feel bad for Graham, though. It isn't really his fault he doesn't seem to 'people' well. 

I just wish I'd gotten his number. 

She's especially affectionate this afternoon. She usually is the day she gets back from spending time with him. Her hands are always somewhere on me, her head on my shoulder or my chest. She reminds me that she missed me while she was gone. I think she thinks that will stop me from finding out. 

The phone rings as she's trying to leave lovebites on my neck. 

"Hold on," I push her off gently, starting to stand up. 

"They can leave a message." 

_But what if it's Graham?_

I'm not sure what my strange affinity for him is all about, but all I want is to hear from him. 

"No," I yawn and stand up, making my way to the phone. "Hello?"

"Damon? It's Allen. From Hogg's."

"I know, " I laugh, "what's up?" 

"Your friend left his car here, his wallet too. You have his number?" 

"Unfortunately, no. How do you know it's his car?" 

"There's a picture of him and some woman in his glovebox. Figured it was his or hers."

"Did you break into his car?"

"Yeah, but only to see whose it was. It's procedure." He's a scumbag. 

"Well," I sigh, "You have his ID, look him up in the phonebook. And, don't steal any of his shit. It's rude." 

"Wasn't planning on it," he scoffs, "an' I did look him up. Some lady called Isabelle answered, said he doesn't live there anymore. Said he doesn't have a cell phone, either. " 

"I don't know what to do. Maybe I'll come down tonight and see if I can help you get ahold of him. " 

"Right. Keep you updated. Thanks, mate. " I click the phone down and sigh deeply. Poor bastard. I hope he's alright; being alone and depressed in this part of town can be scary. Especially when you're the human embodiment of anxiety. And you're hungover. 

I need to breathe. I look to Justine, who sits on the couch in front of the television. 

"'M gonna go pick up some groceries for dinner tonight," I say, going to my bedroom to grab my shoes. 

"Why now? You knew I was coming back today, why didn't you go before?" 

Why does she say things? 

"Didn't occur to me until now," I pull on my sweater. "Plus, maybe I want to make you a special meal. I'll pick up some ice cream, maybe." 

"Okay," she nods. I grab her keys and head out. 

-

"Damon!" A voice behind me calls as I press the button for the lift. I turn to see Alex(?), Susan's son. I throw on a smile. 

"Hi. " He follows me into the lift. 

" Funny story." _Please stop talking to me,_ "I ran into my old college roommate this morning on my way up to mine and mum's apartment. Says he was at _your house_. Couldn't really believe that since he-" 

"Graham?" 

"Yeah! Graham. Small world, innit? Been trying to get in contact with him since we graduated. He's always busy. How did you pull that off?" 

"What?" Goddammit. Of course Alex knows Graham. 

"Getting him to your flat. " 

"Dunno," I shrug, "met him last night. He's nice. "

He laughs. 

"You met _Graham Coxon_ , last night, and got him back to your _house_?" 

"Yeah, what about it? We were both drunk." 

"Took me three weeks to even get him to talk to me when we were at uni together. He asked me for your number and I told him I didn't have it. I didn't take him for a poof but-" 

"Alex," God I hope that's actually his name, "He isn't a poof. "

"Okay," he grins smugly, "I gave him your full name so he can look you up." 

I give him a half-smile, "thanks. "

He furrows his brows at me as we exit the lift. 

"Aren't you a poof, Damon?" 

"What's it to you?" 

"So yes. " 

"I'm married. "

"So?" 

"I love my wife very much. Thank you." 

Some goddamn gentleman. 

I walk to my flat as quickly as possible, hoping he got the hint. 

Justine is waiting for me when I walk in. She throws her arms around me tightly, kissing me. She nearly knocks me over. 

"I missed you," she hums into my ear, kissing down my jaw. 

"Mm, I missed you too," I place the bags down on the floor, holding her body close to mine. 

We end up on the couch, per Justine's major demand for control. I can't focus on her. My mind loves to trail off the Graham, almost completely ignoring Justine. 

_I wonder what he's up to. Is he safe? I wish he were here. I wish it were him where Justine is. Him leaving gentle lovebites on my neck._

That last thought snaps me out of my daze. He doesn't belong in those thoughts; he isn't my wife. I barely know him, though that's never really stopped me before. I'm not sure we'd even consider each other friends. He didn't like it when I held his hand. 

I involuntarily flinch away from Justine, whose hands haven't left my body since she got home. 

"What?" She asks, glaring up at me. 

"Nothing, dear. Just got a bit of a shiver," I laugh nervously, hoping to play it off. 

"Right," her mouth returns to my neck and I hold in a sigh of relief. 

The phone rings again, Justine letting out an irritated groan. She stands to get it, but I beat her there. 

"Graham?" I ask, before considering that it could be any other person in the entire world. 

There's a silence, and then I hear a soft breath on the other line. Justine shoots me a dirty look. 

"Hi. " 

I'm happy to hear his voice 

"H-how are you? My neighbor said he saw you when you were leaving. "

"Alex, yeah. "

"You left your things at Hogg's. " 

There's a silence. "Hogg's?"

"The bar, Graham," I chuckle to myself. 

"Right, " he pauses again, "w-where is that again?"

"Where are you?" 

"I don't know, really. I found a little B'n'B, the keeper is offering me a ride down there. " 

"Sounds safe," I chuckle. 

"Y-yeah,"

"Good luck. "

"Thank you. " 

Neither of us hangs up. The silence is strangely comfortable. That's until Justine wraps her arms around me, laying her head on my chest. I wish she'd give me space. 

I clear my throat. 

"I had a good time last night. Sorry I'm such a drunk asshole." 

"No, it's okay. I needed time out of my house. You keep good company." 

I smile to myself, rubbing Justine's back. 

"Well, if you'd like to be in my company once more, I'd love to have you." 

"Yeah." His voice is soft and gentle. Sweet. 

"Thursday night? At eight. I'm off on Friday. We could meet at Hogg's, but we don't have to go in." 

"For sure. I guess I will see you then. " 

-

"I feel like you're picking him over me," Justine whines after taking a bite of her food. 

"I've known him for less than twenty-four hours now. It isn't like that at all. " 

"You just seem so fixated on him. He isn't that cute or that interesting. I don't get it." 

First of all, fuck you. 

"Whether he's cute or not doesn't matter to me." I refute, taking a bite of my food, not looking at her. 

"I don't see you as it is, I don't really need anything to take that way from me. "

"You're never home," I state, still refraining from making eye contact. 

"I am always busy at work. You know that?" 

I don't say anything for a moment, gaining my composure so I don't break down when I look at her. I don't know how she can lie so confidently. 

I turn to her, placing my fork down. I look her in the eyes, biting down on the inside of my lip. 

"How is Andrew doing? You haven't mentioned him in a while." 

Her face goes pale. "Who?"

"Andrew. Your boss." 

Your handsome, confident, rich, all-around-better-than-me boss. The one who takes you to vacation homes. Your boss who knows you're married but still leaves hickeys in obvious spots. The one you actually want to be around. 

She's taken aback, biting at the skin on her bottom lip. 

"He...he's good. Why do you ask?" 

I smile sarcastically, placing my dish in the sink from over the bar. She got my point. 

"Don't call me, " I spit, pulling on my jumper. 

-

I don't run into Alex or his mum, which is always a win. 

"Thought Justine was coming," Allen chuckles as he opens my beer. 

"We had an argument," I mumble, almost desperately taking the bottle from him. 

"I think you have a drinking problem, Damon. " 

"I don't," I huff, "I'm just going through a lot of shit. " I down the bottle and place it on the counter. 

"So, you have a problem." 

"No, I-"

"Your friend came by. The one from last night. Got his things," he passes me another bottle. "He was happier, but still rather dull. Did you shag him or something?" 

"No," I scoff. "Justine accused me of it. Then she called him ugly, which is entirely wrong. "

"She always does that, doesn't she?"

"Yeah. It's kind of ironic, I think."

"Would you shag him?"

"Oh, maybe. He's strangely enticing, and I feel bad about it. I've barely known him twenty-four hours. " 

"It sounds to me like you're in love," he jokes. 

"With my wife, yes. "

"She doesn't love you," he says, his words frigid. My heart drops; I know he's right. I can't cry here. 

"She...she kissed me today," I say quietly. 

"Woah," he throws his hands up, "scandalous. Be careful." 

I glare at him. 

"First time in a long time," I mutter. "She's acting the way she used to; where she can't keep her hands off me. " 

"She's probably jealous of your new boyfriend." 

"H-he isn't my boyfriend. I would never do that to Justine. "

"She does it to you." 

"I'm not her," I snap, biting at the inside of my cheek. He doesn't say anything and I bury my face in my hands, trying not to cry. 

He's right, and I hate him for it. He's always right. Justine doesn't love me, and she hasn't for a long time. It would make so much sense for me to leave her, but I can't. _I_ love her, even if she doesn't truly feel that same way. I just wish I knew what I did wrong. 

"I need some fresh air," I croak, standing up and heading out the back door. 

The cold of the employee smoking-patio cement under my thighs is numbing. It's only a couple of degrees outside, feeling almost too cold for anything to live. The city sounds fill my ears as I breathe in my cigarette, the smoke entangled with the fog of my breath as I exhale. Thoughts of Justine and Justine and Andrew run themselves ragged through my head. 

The way she used to smile at me when she thought I didn't see her; the way the morning sun illuminated her tired face. How excited she got the first time she cut her hair off. The love in her eyes when she introduced me to him. It makes me feel sick, my throat closing up. 

There is an empty space in my chest where Justine used to live. She used to make me feel warm, whole. These days, I'm a shell of a human being-skin and bone, and I hardly feel anything anymore. 

I wonder what Andrew has that I'm missing. Besides the obvious things, like money and fancy homes in the South of France. But she's never been a shallow woman- she loves people for who they are. She stayed by my side through the worst times of my entire life. She's seen me at my highest, in more way than one, and at my lowest. Yet she still told me she loved me in the morning and in the night, at the end of each phone call, and each time we ever parted. 

I pull my cigarette from my teeth, staring at it as it slowly burns away. My breaths become more shallow, the lump in my throat prohibiting any oxygen from getting through. I press it into the top of my thigh, gasping as it scorches my jeans and my flesh. Adrenaline washes over my body, my eyes closed. 

A woman standing near the door makes eye contact with me as soon as I open them again. She shakes her head at me and walks back into the building. I focus on the butt of the fag once again and flick it into the alleyway. I take one more deep breath and let the sounds of the nightlife envelope me. 


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday comes painfully slow. 

Work is long. Justine has actually been coming home after work, which is quite unusual. I wonder if she and Andrew had a falling out. She's been acting like the woman I married so long ago. The only difference is the wintry tension between the two of us; neither of us can admit that it's there. 

I stand outside the front entrance of Hogg's, playing with the loose threads in the pocket of my coat. My watch reads 7:59. Graham agreed to meet me here at eight. I'm not sure why I'm so anxious- it isn't like we're twelve and going on our first date. 

"Damon?" 

I snap from my trance, staring into space, my eyes falling on Graham. He's wearing a jumper that's a tad too big and blue jeans. I can't help but smile. 

"Hi." 

"Were you waiting long?" 

"No, not at all. I-it's nice to see you again." 

"You too," he pushes his glasses up on his nose, sniffling. 

I place my hand on the door handle, looking him up and down. 

"What can I get you?" 

"D-do you mind if we don't drink th-this time? "

"I don't mind at all," I pull my hand back into my pocket. "Where are we off to then?" 

"Anywhere," he shrugs, "I-I don't know this part of town well." 

"Right then," I send him a sad smile, "follow me. " 

We walk side by side for a while, both of us ignoring the cold. I resist the urge to hold his hand and tell him I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. But I know he's straight, for one, and your new mate you want him to leave hickeys on your chest is a tad bit strange. 

"How have you been, Gra?" I ask after a while. "This last week, I mean. Where are you staying?"

He tenses up a bit but relaxes quickly after. 

"I've been okay. I got an extended stay hotel room and I'm looking at an apartment this week. " 

"That's good, I've been kind of worried," I chuckle nervously. 

We walk in silence for a moment, until my thirst for information about this boy takes over. I ask him useless questions to get him talking. 

Our conversation only disappears into the London air, but it doesn't matter much. We share his last cigarette as we walk, talking about music and literature. He doesn't like poetry, but he loves the way musicians use it. His eyes light up when he talks about it. 

You can tell a lot about someone by the ice cream they order and the records they buy. When we go to the record shop my friend Cameron's dad owns, he buys a record by an American band neither of us know- and a Queen record he says he already owned, but Isabelle won't let him have it. He bought the American record because Cameron insisted we try it. 

I want to go home with him and listen to it, but reality hits me and reminds me I can't. Justine is the one I should lay on the floor with, talking aimlessly, listening to music, breathing each other in- the way we used to. When we'd get high in uni, and the world around us disappeared. 

Upon that realization is when I ask him to get ice cream, and he tells me I'm crazy since it's so cold. I don't tell him it's because we're near the parlor I used to take Justine to every Saturday night. It smells like salted caramel and is decorated like a 50s diner. It used to make me happy. 

He orders a waffle cone with one scoop of vanilla, one chocolate. He gets mad at me for paying for it. He insists on paying for whatever we do next. 

We walk to the corner store next, to buy ourselves more fags. I press him to tell me more about himself, since he doesn't really like to start conversations. He's very animated when he speaks, but in a shy way. He does it until he realizes he's doing it. 

He tells me he works for an art magazine. He finds and interviews artists from all around the UK and other parts of Europe. 

"That's way cooler than what I do," I laugh. 

"And what do you do?" 

"I work in a law firm, handling financial stuff. I'm not even in charge, I'm only an assistant. " 

"What did you go to uni for?" 

"Law, but I minored in music. I didn't finish school, so it doesn't really matter anyway." I hold the door open for him, his body bumping into mine as he enters. 

"Sorry," he mumbles. 

"You're fine," I chuckle, following him into the store. He smells like the ocean; but the sweet, idealized version. 

"You make music?" He asks, wandering down the crisp aisle. I watch him for a few moments, admiring the way he looks under the dim fluorescent lighting. 

"I did," I meet him as he pulls a bag from the hook. He smiles at me. I love it when he does, though it gives me not-so-hetero thoughts about kissing him; holding him and keeping him safe. 

He nods, leaving it at that. 

"Let me pay," I insist, placing our things on the counter. The attendant doesn't look up from her book from behind the counter. 

"No," he groans, "you bought ice cream." 

"So?" 

"Fine, " he grumbles. 

"I still feel like I owe you, anyways," I tell him, glancing over at the woman behind the counter. 

"You don't really. " 

"Mm, but I do. People don't actually seem to want to be around me and my misery," I chuckle, trying not to make it so serious. He smiles at me again. I clear my throat, tapping on the counter. 

"Jesus," he mutters. I almost laugh. 

"Ma'am, " I call, "can we check out please?" 

She looks at us, sighs then places her book face-down. 

" That it for you?" She asks blandly. 

"Can we get two packs of cigarettes, please?" 

She tosses them on the counter and I hand her my card. Graham chuckles quietly from beside me. 

"Customer service at it's finest," I hum, pulling a cigarette from the box and passing it to Graham. 

"Yeah," he laughs, supplying us both with a light. 

And we're off once more, making our way through the frozen night-time streets of London. I want to hold his hand, but I instead bury one hand in my pocket as I smoke with the other. 

Justine crosses my mind. Alone at home, probably watching a movie and thinking about her boyfriend- how much she misses him. I want to tell her I'm safe, even if she doesn't really care. 

"I need to find a phone," I tell Graham. 

"O-okay, why?" 

"I need to call Justine. Check-in with her. She gets nervous when I go out alone. " 

He looks at me confused but nods rather than speaking. 

"Who's this?" She asks when she answers the phone. Her voice is breathless. 

"It's Damon, dear. I just wanted to check in," my eyes land on Graham, who's looking up at the sky with his hands in his pockets. I forget he isn't in the city at night very often. 

"Oh," she doesn't sound happy, though I don't remember the last time she did. "That's sweet of you. You're doing okay?" 

"Yeah." 

She laughs. It's real, it's dreamy. I've missed hearing it. 

"Okay, well I'll see you when you get back." 

It's weird to have someone to check in with. I usually roam the streets aimlessly, unafraid of anything I may encounter. I wouldn't have anyone expecting me at home, wondering if I'd been eaten alive by a heard of hungry strays or kidnapped by a gaggle of desperate junkies. It wouldn't matter to anyone. But Justine's at home now, and I almost feel guilty for leaving her there. 

That's until I hear a man's voice on the other line, and her mumbling something back. My change runs out and I leave the box, going to Graham. 

"She could at least not do it under my roof," I huff, walking past him. He follows close behind. 

"What?" 

"She really thinks I'm stupid." 

"Damon, slow down please," his soft voice calls from behind me. 

"Sorry," I mutter, slowing down. 

"I-it's okay. " 

We walk in silence for a long time. It's nice, comfortable. He isn't really one to talk unless spoken to, and I don't have much to say. I wonder how he would talk with Isabelle- if it was the same comfortable silence, or if they were loud and animated and carefree. I want to see that side of him, if he's there. 

The more I get to know him, the worse I feel for him. She was the only person he had. He doesn't really have many friends, and no apparent relationship with any of his family. He tells me he has a seventeen-year-old sister named Daisy. 

But based off what I heard from Alex and have generally picked up from Graham, he doesn't seem to _want_ anyone. But that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve someone. We all deserve someone. 

"It's funny that we've both lived near Alex," I say to break the silence. 

"Yeah." 

"He's kind of annoying. "

"No, I don't think so." 

"It's kind of funny that you say that. I'm a pretty obnoxious person and I try and avoid conversation with him at all costs. And here you are, all shy and antisocial, but you don't find the most obnoxious person on the planet annoying."

He gives me a sad, half-smile, shrugging. 

"You just have to get to know him, I guess." 

"He was rather rude to me last time we talked." 

"He does that sometimes, but he really doesn't mean to." 

"So why have you been avoiding him for so long?" I ask, stopping to look at him. His expression falls. He stays quiet for a few moments. 

"I haven't been _ignoring_ him. I-I just...I didn't need him." 

Didn't need him? What does that mean?

I decide not to say anything to that. 

We are not far from the hotel he's staying at. It's nearly midnight and we sit by the window in the far corner of some cafe. Once again, I can't keep my eyes off of him. It feels wrong, dirty. I don't want to be like Justine, but the only thing I want to do is kiss him. I can't do that to her, even if she does it to me. 

I think about her again while he's in the restrooms. She probably sees Andrew in the moonlight or the dim lights of the corner store and wants nothing more than to kiss him. I bite down into my lip, trying not to cry. Why can't she see me that way anymore? 

He slides into his seat across from me, but I stay focused on the floor. 

"Damon?" He asks softly. I look at him. 

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay? Y-you seem tired." 

"I'm okay, thank you," I sit up in my seat and take a drink of my tea. 

"I haven't been out this late in a long time," he says. I crack a smile. 

"We were out until two last week." 

"Against my will," he refutes. It's a little surprising to hear him sass like that. "Besides, I was drunk and sad. "

"Touche. " He smiles again, laughing. 

I let him pay this time. I ask him about Isabelle, almost on accident. He said my eyes are a similar blue to hers, which makes me laugh since his are so close to Justine's. 

"She really loved bright colors, and the springtime," he stirs his tea lazily, slouching in his seat. "She works in a florist's shop, she always smelled like roses." A sad, melancholic smile spreads across his face. He avoids eye contact with me. "Our flat always had fresh flowers, and she kept it decorated with pinks, yellows, oranges... never purple. She hates purple. It's my favorite color." 

His tone is sad and dry, in the I've-already-cried-about-this sort of way. 

"She loved to come into the city, " he looks up at me for a moment, then back down. "To all the quirky stores and the parks. She liked to watch all the people. They always made me so nervous. Worried they would see her looking." He sniffles, his voice cracking. He puts a few sugars into his tea, mixing it again. I watch his eyes as they follow his spoon, mixing in circles. 

"She told me I was sick," his voice is hoarse, it cracks again. "That there's something wrong with me," he laughs. 

"Oh...Oh, Graham. There isn't anything wrong with you," I breathe. His eyes meet mine, his jaw tight. They're bloodshot. 

"You wouldn't know that." 

"But that doesn't matter. " 

He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound escapes. 

"I know I don't know you at all, but I want to." 

" I don't need you to." 

"But I want to. " 

He takes a deep breath. His eyes leave mine and he pulls one knee to his chest. I keep mine on him, though, watching as his shoulders rise and fall while he breathes. 

"No, you don't. "

"Oh, don't you pull that," I chuckle, "just..." I take a deep breath,"let go for a moment. Life doesn't need to be such a dark cloud all the time. " 

"How can you say that?" He asks, knitting his brows together, "your life is pretty stormy right now, too. How can you just forget it? Let things go? Does it not eat you alive?" 

"No, " I shrug, "it doesn't."

I'm lying to his face. It's devouring every last drop of spirit that I had. It's burning holes into my jeans, leaving circular welts in my skin- just to prove to myself I'm still alive. It's dancing around my kitchen in her underwear while I cook dinner, singing to a Beatles record I got her for her twenty-second birthday. It's sleeping in another man's bed. 

He still looks skeptical. He gazes at the table for a moment, then pushes his glasses up on his nose. 

"I don't believe you." 

I like that I have him fired up and talking this much. I don't necessarily like this topic, but I'm talking to Graham so I don't mind much at all. 

"Alex told me you've changed a lot in the last few months, " he starts as we leave the cafe and make our way to the stairs of his hotel building. "Says he sees you a lot less, that you've started to look quite shit. " 

I scoff and stop walking, shooting him an appalled look. 

"Well _that_ is quite polite of him," I shake my head and catch up to him. "People change and they go through shit, it's just the way life is. I, " I motion to myself, "am going through shit. " 

"W-well, I don't think you look bad. " He stops at the base of the steps, looking into my eyes. My face starts to burn, butterflies in my stomach. I swear I'm like a teenager. "And you are going through something. He hasn't changed since uni, " his gaze falls again. "Still living with his mum, still dresses the same, same haircut. "

"Really?" I laugh. "Justine and I have only lived there two years. " 

He hands me another cigarette. We both take a seat on the steps, our bodies close to each other. Neither of us speak. I rest my head on his shoulder, without thinking of any sort of reaction he could have. I don't know him well; he could be violently homophobic and I am a dead man. 

I should not have told him I'm bisexual. He didn't really say anything when I told him, but I can't help but feel like he sees me differently than he did before. Like I am some confused, predatory man. 

Instead, he tenses up a little bit, then his body melts into mine. I sigh a breath of relief. 

"I don't want to go home," I mutter. 

"Why not?"

"Justine has her boyfriend over," I croak, "I don't know if I have the strength to face that." 

"That's why you should go," his tone matches mine. 

" I-I don't want to find them in _my sheets_. I don't know how I'd react or what I'd do. I can't see them together. " 

"Damon," he hesitates a little bit, putting his fag out on the cement. "How long do you see yourself putting up with this? "

I shrug," I don't know. "

"Why do you put up with it?" 

"Why wouldn't I? I love her. "

"It's killing you. You deserve better than that. "

I don't. I don't tell him that, because I know he will fight me on it. I deserve all that I've been given. 

"You...you deserve someone wh-who," he sniffles, his voice cracking. I know he's thinking of Isabelle. "You deserve someone who cares about you, who loves you." He sniffles again and wipes his eye. He's crying. 

I pull him into a tight hug. 

"So do you. " 


	5. Chapter 5

G

Damon and I meet up every Thursday night. His weekend starts then. Mine doesn't, but I really don't mind his company--even if he gets drunk and talks to me until four in the morning. He usually sleeps on my couch after that. 

We haven't been going out. I got an apartment not long after he took me out that night, which is where he and I spend those nights and early mornings. I don't have much furniture, besides an air mattress and a futon in the lounge. I've lived here three months now, and I hardly have enough money for food. 

I have my own phone number now, but no one calls me other than Damon. The machine doesn't have all the messages from Isabelle anymore. It doesn't have the ones she left to remind me to take my medicine and call my mother, or the ones she left for me before she went home to Denmark to see her family. 

It's hard to get up in the morning and not hear her voice. My flat is as dreary as the late-winter skies outside my window; none of her thrift-store art finds, avant-garde lamps, and the furniture she spraypainted bright colors. I think not having those things around will help me move on. 

The only social interaction I get is from Damon, and sometimes Justine. I don't talk much to anyone at work at all. I talk on the phone to Damon a couple of times a week, but it's usually just him talking. I don't know if he has that much to say to me, or if he just likes the sound of his own voice, but I enjoy listening. 

It's Thursday today. Damon has invited me over to have dinner with him and Justine. He wants us to like each other, and we pretend to to make him happy. I like when he's happy, so it doesn't bother me much to pretend for a few hours. I just wish he made her as happy as she makes him.

I don't like her. Even if she wasn't unfaithful, I still don't think I would enjoy her presence. I do see why he loves her so much; she's witty, funny, and she doesn't seem to be afraid to say anything. But at the same time, she's rude and far too blunt for my liking. It's so hard to watch them together since she isn't very genuine. He looks at her like she's the only thing in the room, and she doesn't even look at him. 

Justine brings us all wine after dinner and we sit together in the lounge. We talk amongst ourselves, though I don't say much. For some reason, I can only focus on Damon. The way he looks at her, his crooked teeth, and the way he laughs with his whole body. Justine glares at me when she notices me looking, resting her hand on his thigh. 

I look away, clearing my throat. 

"I'm going out for a fag," I tell them, standing from my seat on the floor. 

"Sounds lovely," Damon notes, standing up. Justine smiles sarcastically at both of us. 

"Alright." 

"I'm sorry," he whispers to me as we enter the patio. I shrug and take a seat on his porch swing. 

"I-it's fine. " 

He sits next to me, too close for my comfort. But that's kind of the way he is. He likes contact. He pulls his knees to his chest and lets out a deep breath, watching the vapor leave his mouth and disappear into the sky. 

"I love the cold," he says, looking to me. 

"That's weird," I laugh, passing him a cigarette. 

"Not any more strange than liking any other season." 

"I guess," I lean back, sucking in a deep breath. "You seem to be doing better this week." 

"I am. My wife's been treating me like I'm her husband. It's great. "

I wish I knew how that felt. I also wish I had faith that this would last. Justine will run away again tomorrow or next week, and Damon will be passed out on my floor with a belly full of booze and tear-stained cheeks. 

"Yeah, I guess. "

"I just hope it stays this way. It doesn't normally, but this time could be different." He rests his head on his knee, looking up at me. 

"What makes you think that it will be?" 

"I don't know. She doesn't avoid me any more, and she actually _talks to me._ She's starting to remind me of the woman I married. "

" I wonder if she broke up with him or something." 

"I'd hope so." 

" Do you think you can really stay with her after all of this?" 

"Yeah...Maybe, I don't know. I want to be with her. " 

Why? She isn't very nice to him. Even if she and her other man are no longer together, the damage is still done. I guess he doesn't see the damage she's really done to him. It isn't normal to do some of the things he does. He told me he sometimes showers twice a day just to feel some form of warmth. 

I stay quiet for a moment, enjoying his company. 

"I could die like this," he says. I look to him, raising a brow. He stares at me for a moment, before inhaling deeply. 

"I'm comfortable. Calm. This is my favorite place," he smiles sadly. "This is where I come to think. I love to see the sky, no matter the time of year. The sky changes so much, but no one really pays attention. And the sounds of the city bring me this form of peace that I don't think I know the words to describe. " 

"Do you come here alone, usually?" 

"Well, usually, I am alone. I come here to escape Justine's home, since that's really what it is. To avoid her snobby friends when she calls them over. Sometimes I sleep out here, but only when we've been fighting and the weather is nice. " 

"I don't understand why you stay here, Damon." 

"I don't either," he sighs, tapping the ash from his cigarette out on the arm of the porch swing. "But I just do. " 

The back door opens and Justine appears. Her cheeks are red, her arms folded. 

"Damon?" 

"Yes, love?" he repositions to look at her. 

"I-I need to go to see Sabrina, " she says, shivering slightly. I assume that's a friend of hers, or code for Andrew. "James has decided to leave her again. " 

"Alright," he mutters, rubbing his eye. "Drive safe, don't drive home if you're drunk, please. I don't really want to pay for a funeral," he teases. She laughs and kisses him, waving goodbye to both of us. 

"Well," I huff, laying back against my seat. 

"I think she's telling the truth this time," he shrugs. "That James is a piece of shit. They break up a lot and Justine plays therapist. She used to come here a lot when it happened. " 

"Hm."

He and I stay on the porch swing for some time, talking about nothing, as we usually do. He's good at talking. He's drunk by about 10:30, which is never shocking. 

"Slowdown," I laugh as I watch him pour us more wine, almost spilling it. 

"Shhhh, shh. I...I stole this from J-Justine's mum last Christmas, I can't waste it. "

"You gonna waste it if you spill it," I laugh again, watching him take a swig off of his. "You have a drinking problem." 

"No, I don't. I drink to make the s-sad go away, and it always works." 

"That's what a drinking problem is."

"Y-you drink with me!"

"Sh, no, not as much as you do." 

"Stop being mean, " he groans, laying back, stretching his arms out. 

"No," I hum, laying my head on his shoulder. 

"You know," he giggles, poking at my leg, "you look pretty at night." I laugh back at him. 

"O-only at night?" 

"No! No, no at day too. Just," he takes in a deep breath, "you're like the moon. L-like, you glow, I mean. " 

"The moon doesn't glow, Damon." 

"But you do when you look at the moon. " 

"You're silly." 

"No, I-I am right. " 

" Sure. " 

"Would you ever kiss a boy?" He asks, pulling away from me to look at my face. 

"I don't know, maybe. If it was the right boy. "

"Okay," he shrugs, returning to his previous position. 

"Why do you ask?" I laugh. 

"Cause I like to kiss them." 

"I know." 

"They aren't like girls, but kissing them...kissing them is good. " 

I can't help but laugh at him. He talks about his celebrity crushes when he gets drunk, and how many of them he'd take to bed if he had the chance. It always makes me laugh. 

"You kiss a lot of boys?"

"My first kiss was a boy. He beat me up later," he laughs. I pull away from him and look at him, not sure what to say. 

"He kissed me and told me he thought I was cute. I think I was twelve. Then he threw me into the gym lockers," he closes his eyes. "But he's a drag performer in SoHo these days, so I don't take it to heart. " 

"Jesus," I mumble. 

"It's okay. I kissed a lot of boys after him and realized that they all did that." 

"Damon, th-that isn't really okay." 

"It's been fourteen years." 

I drop it. 

"Bisexuality is a wild concept," I lay my head back down on his shoulder. 

"Why?"

"Cause like, I thought you just had to choose girls, or boys if you wanted, but you can just...have both." 

"Yeah," he laughs, "I just like people. Pretty things. A-an' people are pretty. All of them." 

"Cool," I take a drink from my glass, spilling some down my chin. I groan, making Damon laugh. He wipes it with his thumb, giggling. I look up at him, our eyes meeting. My breathing hitches as his eyes drop to my lips, then back up to my eyes. He smiles a toothy grin and moves his hand from my face. I look away from him quickly, my heart pounding. 

I think the alcohol is getting to me. 

"Stay with me tonight," he demands at about twelve-thirty. 

"I have work tomorrow," I groan, stretching my arms above my head. 

"So what?" He turns on his side to face me. 

"I'm already gonna be hungover. Y-your fault," I poke his chest. "Your fault." 

He yawns, pulling his sweater up to cover his mouth. 

"B-but, I don't want to be aloooone," he groans. 

" You're always alone. "

"Don't wanna be. Stay here, please." 

"Justine will kill me." 

"So? Then I'll die and we can go to heaven and not deal with her. "

"As good as it sounds, I- I want my bed."

"My bed is better." 

"I'd sleep on the sofa." 

"Orr my beeeedd," he hums, poking at my cheek. I scrunch up my face, shaking my head. 

"No." 

"Why? I'll get cold," he rubs his upper arms, pouting. 

"You will have t-to deal with it! I'm gonna take the couch." 

"Good. Now, " he sits up from the floor, "I th-think we should drink more." 

"No, " I grunt. "L-let's just...hmm," I scrunch my face again, unable to find words. He looks so soft in that sweater. It's much too big for his scrawny body. 

"What?" He folds his arms, looking down at me. 

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I feel his body lay down next to mine, the scent of maple and fresh rain filling my nostrils. 

His breathing slows. I open them to see his face a meter or so from mine, his eyes closed. He's already asleep. 

I don't know if it's my immense loneliness and desperation or the copious amounts of alcohol, but I want nothing more than to pull myself closer to him and hold him until the sun creeps her way into the city sky. 


	6. Chapter 6

G

I haven't seen Damon for nearly a month now. He hasn't called me, either. I just hope it's because he's spending time with Justine or maybe his mum, and not dead.

I have been rather lonely without him.

I did run into Alex at the pub last week, he was with some friends. He told me he hadn't heard from Damon-or Justine- any more than he usually does. He also said he hasn't heard them fighting, so that's a plus.

It's weird to me that he's changed so little in so long. He dresses the same way, and still can't take anything seriously. He's always used humor as either a coping or a defense mechanism, and that's definitely not changed. I'm still delighted to see him when I can.

It makes me sad to know that he hasn't seen Damon, either. I worry about him since he's hardly ever in a safe state of mind and chooses to stay oblivious. Watching him keep himself numb is so hard, but I don't think I have a place telling him he needs to slow down. I care about him and I don't want to see him so down--but that's the only Damon I know.

It's now two-thirty in the afternoon on Wednesday and I'm alone in my studio. The sunshine of the early spring slips through the shades, the radio on the left side of my desk mumbling pop music. I stare at my canvas, letting out a deep sigh. I've got more paint on my jeans than I have on the canvas.

I step back, pursing my lips. I haven't had a creativity block like this in a long time.

It may be my general emptiness that's distracting me from my art. It isn't the same general emptiness it has been in the past, because at those times painting was the only thing I could bring myself to do. Now I can't even do that.

I have a note paper on my desk, near the phone. It has my mum, Isabelle, her work, and(newly), Damon's phone numbers written in my frantic chicken scratch, taped to the wood. They're the only people I have a consistent history of speaking with, despite Isabelle's recent absence from my answering machine. I've tried to call my mum, but she doesn't answer often. I'm sure Isabelle has my work phone blocked, too. So I press the ten digits of Damon's home number into the keypad and let it ring.

"Hello?"

It's Justine.

"H-Hi, Justine? It's Graham-"

"Damon's not here."

"I know, " I say quietly, picking at the paint on my desk.

"Then why'd you call?" She laughs.

"I-I didn't think I'd get an answer. I was going to leave a message for him, tell him to call me."

"He doesn't want to talk to you, Graham. Hasn't he made that obvious?"

My heart drops into my stomach. I should have thought of that.

"O-Oh, I- sorry, I-"

"Don't. Just...Just quit trying. It's not worth it. You'll end up embarrassing yourself."

"Right. I'm sorry. T-tell him I'm sorry, please."

"Yeah. Bye Graham," she mutters, hanging up.

I sit in my seat, unsure of how I'm feeling. What did I do that made him not want to talk to me anymore? Thinking back to the last time we hung out, I can't remember anything that was awkward or particularly off-putting on my part. I remember him asking me about kissing boys, but that wasn't uncomfortable.

Maybe it was building up. Maybe he's been annoyed with me this whole time and he finally had enough. Maybe he knew I'd thought about kissing him when he helped me clean up the wine I drunkenly spilled. I know he wouldn't kiss me.

I take a deep breath and stare down at my desk. My brain doesn't know where to go next. I can't talk to either of the people in my life I went to for solace because neither of them wants me anymore. But before I can think, the phone to the floral shop on the corner of 22nd Street and James place rings.

"Valarie's floral, this is Isabelle," she greets, and a downpour of emotion nearly drowns me. I haven't heard her voice for so long.

"It's Graham," I choke out.

She sighs deeply. I imagine the way she always spins the phone wire around her finger when she talks.

"What do you want?"

I don't know what I want. I don't know why I called her.

"I-I," I hate that I can't speak when I'm upset, "I need someone."

"I can't help you, Graham. I did it for too long, I can't be your person anymore."

"I know," I croak. "I don't need y-you to be my person, I just need someone to-"

"I know how you work. I'm not stupid, I won't fall for it again."

"Listen to me, please, Isabelle. I'm not calling to try and win you back. I just... I'm hurting?"

I wish I knew how to talk.

"You always are. You're always in a dark place. Because you're sick. "

"I-I'm not sick."

"Then how-," she sighs, annoyed. "Nevermind. I need to go."

"Wait, please. C-can you meet me? I need someone to talk to and you're all I know. Please."

She's silent on the other line for a while.

"Fine. Tomorrow?"

That's when I'm meant to meet Damon. It won't happen, but I can't leave him hanging if he actually shows up.

I am then reminded that he doesn't want to talk to me.

"Yeah, yes. Thank you. I-I'll come pick you up. When are you off?"

"Nine."

"Perfect."

She hangs up and I'm alone again, left with the flurry of feelings that I have no idea what to do with.

My door is unlocked when I get home. I usually triple-check my locks when I leave, so my instinct is to hold my keys in my fist between my fingers in case I need to defend myself.

The entire apartment is dark, besides the TV in the front room. I creep my way through the space carefully, my eyes peeled for any potential danger. My breaths are heavy, my heart beating out of my chest. I grip my keys so hard in my hand that they shake, trying to stay calm. I turn the light on quickly, a thud coming from the sofa. I take step closer and peer over the sofa, ready to attack whatever was there to meet me.

"Jesus Christ," I groan, covering my face with my free hand.

Damon stretches and glares up at me, "I was sleeping."

"How did you get into my house?"

He yawns and rolls onto his side.

"You showed me where the spare key was."

Goddammit.

"How long have you been here? I almost killed you."

"Since this morning," he sits up, rubbing his eyes. "And you couldn't kill me, you couldn't hurt a fly."

"Only cause I can't catch them," I huff, throwing my keys onto the counter. He meets me in the kitchen. "Where are your trousers?"

"Oh, " he sniffles, "I took a shower and didn't feel like putting on more than the bare minimum."

"Right. "

I don't know if I want to kiss him or throat punch him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking up at me. "I just disappeared."

"I know."

"I got scared."

My eyes meet his tired ones. He always has hopelessness in them. His face is thinner, his facial structure more defined. I only nod in response, letting him know that I understand.

His gaze falls to the floor. He looks so small standing there. His hair disheveled, his large jumper draping over his body. I sigh and pull him into my arms tightly, his body instantly melting into mine. He holds me tighter than I've been held in so long.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "So sorry."

"You don't have to be, I get it, Dames. It's fine."

He doesn't say anything but doesn't let me go. I don't mind this. I rub his back gently, listening to him breathe. Each one that escapes his mouth is shaky, the way it gets when he talks about her.

"It's okay," I reassure.

He lets me go, sniffling again.

"Thank you. I-I feel really pathetic."

"You're not," I shake my head, "no, you're just sad. It's okay, it happens. We do things when we're upset we wouldn't otherwise do."

He nods, his eyes returning to the floor.

"What happened to your leg?" I ask, hoping to redirect our conversation.

"Oh," he chuckles, poking at a bruise. "I fell down the stairs last week. I was drunk."

"Of course you were. You need to slow down, you're going to die."

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Or we could get wine drunk again?"

"As lovely as that may sound, I had a long day-"

"All the more reason, my friend."

"No. It's not good for you."

"That doesn't matter. You have no problem having a fag with me," he raises his brows.

"It's not the same."

"Either way, it's speeding up the whole life cycle so we may as well."

He reminds me a lot of nine-months-ago me. Passively suicidal, doing anything to avoid reality.

"No. I'll make dinner and we can watch a movie or something. "

"Fine, coward," he huffs, leaning into the counter.

"How are things at home?" I ask him as I cook.

"Uh," he looks off to the side, taking in a deep breath. "I don't know how to answer that."

"Are things good?"

"No."

"Bad?"

"No. Just...okay, I guess. We don't fight as much, but we aren't the way we used to be. I was hoping I had her back. Which I do, but not really."

"Confusing."

"Yeah. She tells me she loves me now, which she used to not do. "

"That's good."

"Yeah," he grins a bit, resting his head in his hand.

I decide not to tell him about the conversation I had with her today.

"What made you decide to come here?"

"I didn't want to go to work," he shrugs. "She told me she and her girlfriends are planning a trip to Barbados this week, and I got mad so I came here to spite her. Plus, I like to see you."

"What's in Barbados?"

"A mansion with endless drinks and boys," he smiles at me.

"Is one of those boys who I think it is?"

"Mhm. I wish she would just leave me sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," I chuckle sarcastically.

"Like, I'm clearly not enough for her. Why even stick around?"

Does he hear himself?

"Yep," I smile back at him, "I really don't see a point in staying."

"But then she comes home and everything is suddenly okay. I feel like she loves me again."

Remember when I said I didn't know if I wanted to kill him or kiss him? I'm thinking about killing him.

"What would happen if you told her you knew?"

"We'd fight, she'd cry, tell me she's sorry and that it won't happen again and she doesn't go see him for a while. Then suddenly work's busy again and I'm back to sharing a bed with what I think I can only describe as a ghost."

I stay quiet for a second, looking for words.

"Damon?"

"Yeah?"

"How many times have you caught them?"

"Three times."

I take a deep breath, looking into his eyes.

"Why do you let it happen?"

"Because we love each other, and we're supposed to forgive each other."

Why is he so dumb?

"Damon, I don't think that's how it works. "

"I don't want to not love her," he sits back.

"I get that."

"Do you still love Isabelle?"

"Yes," I say quickly.

"She hurt you."

"It isn't the same. "

"But you still love her."

I sigh. I think I like him better when he's drunk.

"I'm meeting her tomorrow."

"Why?" He looks at me, his expression confused and slightly disgusted.

"Because I thought you were never going to come back. And I needed someone to talk to. I only know four phone numbers. "

"I'm sorry. "

"Where did you go?"

"I got scared."

"Of what?"

His gaze drops to his lap, him taking in a deep breath.

"It's nothing."

"Of Justine?"

"Not really. It's really nothing."

I nod.

"Just don't do it again, please."

He smiles at me.

"You know, Graham, I didn't think you liked me very much. I thought you were just putting up with me."

"I don't see why you'd think I don't like you."

" 'Cause I'm rather obnoxious, you're not. I overshare, you keep to yourself. We're quite opposite from each other. "

"That's okay."

"Good, " he grins.

We eat dinner on the floor in front of the television. Sober Damon is still too touchy for sober Graham, but I let it slide. It isn't uncomfortable or invasive, I'm just not used to a man laying his head on my shoulder. I'm not used to being around other men in the way I'm around Damon, either-since he's the only man I've been attracted to. I don't even know if I am _attracted_ per se, but we definitely have a different dynamic than men usually have with each other.

He asks me random questions that have nothing to do with our conversations. It's really quite funny. I never know how to answer him either. He asks me if I've ever been to Mexico and what my dad does for a living.

"I don't talk to my dad much anymore, we grew apart when I moved away. "

"My dad's dead, so I get it. "

God, this boy and his delivery.

I stare at him for a moment, unsure if he's messing around or not.

"R-really?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, "doesn't matter though. I think him being dead is easier than him being alive and having a ruined relationship."

"Damon, I need you to provide more information. "

"He died in an accident six or so years ago. I don't care enough to keep count."

"What happened between you guys?"

"He told me I was going to rot in hell for being gay and took our car out, never came back."

His casual explanation of heavy things never ceases to amaze me.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah," he shrugs, "better off without him. My mum's still around, sweetest lady on the planet. I think you'd love her. She's a baker."

"She sounds lovely."

"Yeah," he smiles, " She loves Justine. I've never told her about Andrew, it would kill her."

_But it's killing you right now._

"We don't want that."

"No. I kind of wish my mum didn't like her. It would make a lot of things easier."

"Why so?"

"If she didn't like Justine it would be easier to leave her," he says bluntly, his eyes not leaving mine. "She would hate to see me have a failed marriage. I think she's just happy I didn't end up with a man."

"You'd leave her?'

"I don't know. Eventually."

I nod, looking away from his eyes.

"Do you miss her?" He asks after a long period of quiet.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I do. A lot. Not as much as I used to. I have things beyond her in my life now. I'm piecing things together. "

"That's good."

"Yeah."

The only way I can seem to describe sober-Damon is somber. He isn't miserably depressing to be around, but he isn't exactly a ray of sunshine. He still carries a strange confidence in himself that doesn't make a lot of sense. I want to see him happy, and he can't be happy when he's being drowned by his wife.

"Damon," I ask, gazing over at him. "Are you really happy with her?"

"I don't know."

"You deserve to be happy."

"You already told me that."

"Doesn't make it less true. You're a great guy, and it sucks to see you hurt like this. She doesn't make you happy."

He sighs deeply.

"I don't want to think anymore."

"I'm sorry."

" 'S okay. "

"I do have some wine," I offer, "but we can't get too drunk. We both need to work tomorrow, and you didn't go today. "

He just nods. I smile at him and stand up, heading into the kitchen.

"Here," I hand him his glass, sitting next to him on the floor.

"Thanks."

We both watch the TV mindlessly, making cracks about the actors on screen. Damon sits close to me, our bodies nearly touching. Usually, I'd be uncomfortable with it, but I trust Damon. I know I'm safe around him.

"I'm cold," he whispers.

"I don't have many blankets," I inform him, handing him my glass. I turn to the sofa and pull one off onto the two of us. "This is the biggest one aside from my duvet."

"That's okay," he adjusts it to cover both of us as much as possible, despite its obvious "for-one" size. He returns to his previous position, resting his head on my shoulder. Nothing is stopping me from holding him. To keep him warm, not because my brain's decided he's my next 'person.'

So I drape my arm around his shoulders, allowing his body to fall into mine. My eyes fall on him, and how pretty he looks under the glow of the television screen. I feel almost juvenile as my stomach fills with butterflies when he rests his free hand on my knee.

"You're pretty," he hums after three more glasses of wine. We said we wouldn't get too drunk, but we're quickly getting there.

"Thanks, you too," I smile.

"Like," he stretches his arms over his head, "like, too pretty. It isn't at all fair."

"I'd like to know, if I'm pretty, what are you?"

"I'm okay."

"Pshh" I giggle. He cups my face with one hand, turning my face to look all the way down at him. A grin creeps across his face as he gently caresses my cheek with his thumb. It moves to my bottom lip, both of us making lazy, drunken eye contact. My breath hitches, my face warming up. 

He lays back down, snuggling up close to my side. My heart is now pounding, the way it did every time I caught Isabelle looking at me from across our classroom back in uni. He's torturing me.

I would be being dishonest if I say that my attraction to Damon doesn't scare me. I haven't ever been attracted to a man, so I don't understand why I am now. I don't know what it means for me or my identity. Am I really attracted to him, or am I just lonely? If so, would acting on my feelings be taking advantage of Damon's loneliness? I don't want to do that to him and I know he couldn't be unfaithful to Justine. Even if he gets close to it when he's drunk, he's never done more than cuddle up with me. But he's just a very touchy person. I noticed that the night we met, when he kept grabbing my hand as we talked. I hated it.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, meeting my eyes once more.

"Why is that?"

"For going away," he yawns, "I didn't mean to make you sad. I don't like when you're sad. I-it makes me..it makes _me_ sad. "

"Oh," I chuckle, "don't need to be. I'm not mad."

"Mh, I did it cause Justine doesn't like you, a-and she got mad at me."

"I know."

"How? I didn't tell you that."

"I'm all-knowing," I shrug. He grins smugly.

"Sure."

I laugh and he lays his head back down.

I smile to myself, watching him for a moment. I think I could fall for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what if... we kissed on my living room floor while we're both drunk and generally sad....hahaha jk,,,,, unless? 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to bug the person who usually beta reads these for me so sorry if its shit lol merry crimmas I'll try and post more over break:) I love u guys  
>  xx

Graham is nearly always gone when I wake up at his house. He needs to be to work before I do, and I think he's given up on me letting him take me to work. He'd cleaned up our mess from the night before and left me a note, not unlike the ones he always left.

Damon,

I left for work. I would like to hang out again tonight, if you'll have me.  
I would advise against skipping work today, since I know you want to. Stay safe.  
\- Graham

P.S. I have some leftovers in the fridge if you end up staying home or need a lunch. Don't stay home. I'd hate to have to kill you.

I smile to myself as I read the note. He's a sweetheart. I'm really happy he's comfortable around me, and has somewhat come out of his shell. But his handwriting is terrible.

I sigh and pick up the phone to dial my office, since I absolutely do not plan to go in today. My eyes land on a note stuck to the fridge. Scribbled in blue ink, it reads:

Isabelle, 1:30, Fitz.

Goddammit, Graham. I forgot he was meant to meet her. He's never going to get over her if he keeps meeting her for lunch.

He is kind of a hypocrite. He tells me that it isn't good for me to stay with Justine, but he can't seem to stay away from Isabelle. I don't know all that much about her, but anyone who makes Graham cry like that isn't exactly my favorite person. But of anyone, I know that being in love with someone will make you stupid.

I sigh to myself and dial the number to my office, telling them I'm sick again and I will see them on Monday.

In the back of my mind, I know he's right about Justine. So is Jamie. Leaving her would make sense. It would free me of so much hurt. But I can't do that to her. I can't hurt her. Not to mention, it'd destroy my poor mother.

I would lose all of my friends, too. They're all hers and I really don't like any of them at all, but at least I have people I can call friends. I would have to deal with lawyers and courts, which I don't think I can afford. I would also be losing the only semi-constant in my life. She may not always be around, but I still have little reminders of her in my home.

But if I left, I wouldn't have to worry if she was ever coming back home. No worries about when she doesn't come home for a few days that she's either with him or dead. At least I know she's safe when she's with him.

I hope she knows I'm okay when I'm away, and that she doesn't need to worry. I don't know if she really even cares at all.

But that brings me to Graham. I think I like him. A lot. And I hate myself for it. I'm spending more time with him and I'm learning more about him and I'm also slowly finding myself more and more enthralled with him. If I left Justine, I'd want to be with him. But he wouldn't want me. He wants Isabelle.

I take a deep breath and lay myself down on his sofa and switch on the TV. A distraction. But I can still only feel the weight of my situation sitting on my shoulders, my mind blaring over the sound coming from the television.

I could stay with her. I want to. I'll tell her I know about Andrew and that I have dreams about kissing Graham, and that he makes me happier than I've been in ages. It will go how it always does: she will apologize, she will cry, and she will tell me it won't happen again. I'll forgive her and she'll tell me I can't see Graham for a long time. We will be okay for a while, a few weeks or so. Then it will start again, and I'll drive her car into on-coming, rush-hour, central-London traffic. 

She's the reason I distanced myself from Graham. I figured that if I stayed away from him for long enough, my feelings for him would dissipate. But here I am, on his sofa at 10 A.M. on a Thursday morning after spending the night with him. All because I missed him. 

I close my eyes, pulling my legs into my chest. Maybe I am like Justine. I should give up, let myself fall for Graham. See how she feels about that. Make her leave me so I don't have to say the words. I don't even know what words I would say to her. I'm too pathetic, too much of a coward to say anything to her. 

I feel even more pathetic when I soak Graham's couch cushions with my tears. My chest feels as if it's going to collapse in on itself again, and I'm gasping for air. Why can't I stop? Why do I allow myself to get this way? My father would be ashamed to see his son crying like a girl over something as small as this. 

Stop 

I say to myself. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. 

I can't stop, no matter how hard I try. I wipe my eyes and take shallow breaths, trying to calm myself. But I can't.

I just lie there and cry until I fall asleep.

-

I wake up again on the sofa, that strangely fresh "I just cried myself to sleep" kind of feeling filling my whole body. I feel sort of numb, but better. I've begun to think I was wrong about being numb before; I almost prefer it to this. 

I rub my eyes and let them focus on the TV, which is now playing a sitcom I don't recognize. I look to the clock on the end table, reading it at 11:58. Graham won't be home for a few hours. 

"Dammit," I sigh and pull myself off the sofa. I'm still in Graham's sweater and the sweatpants he forced me to put on before he'd allow me to drink. I rub my eyes again and make my way to the bathroom, trying to ignore the impending doom that will come with going home. I can't stay here alone again. I don't want to do that to Graham.

"Oh, Jesus," I scoff when I see myself in the mirror. My face is drained of any color, my eyes bloodshot. I look like a corpse. No wonder Justine doesn't like me anymore. 

Graham's clothes are all slightly too big on me. They smell like him, which is one thing I do enjoy. They smell like the summertime- fresh, sweet, dreamy. Much like him, actually. I keep myself wrapped up tightly in his jumper on the cab ride home. 

I, unfortunately, run into Alex on the way into the building. 

"Hi," he smiles that obnoxiously large smile. 

"Hey," I sniffle, walking past him to the lift.

"Are you okay?" He stops me, concern washed over his face. I throw on that fake 'I'm talking to the neighbor I pretend to like' smile and nod. He stares at me for a second. 

"I'm fine, Alex. Thank you. How are you?" 

"I'm great," he says, throwing on the aforementioned neighbor smile. We stand in silence for a moment, before he sighs and tells me he doesn't believe me. 

"Alex, I am fine. I promise." 

"Graham told me he hadn't seen you in a while and I realized that I hadn't either, and I got worried." 

It's strange to me that Graham cares enough to mention it to anyone.

"No need to worry, really. I've just been busy, is all. "

"You look like you haven't had a meal in weeks and you reek of booze."

"What does it matter to you?" 

Sometimes, just living on the same floor as him makes me angry. 

"I just care, I guess. As a neighbor and a mutual friend."

"Thanks, I guess." I press the 'up' button on the lift and turn to face the door, hoping Alex will pick up on it. 

"Why don't I come to your flat with you? My mum's at her sister's for the day. You seem like you need a friend." 

"I appreciate the offer, Alex, I really do, but I need to be alone. Plus, I just came from Graham's."

We step into the lift, him pressing the button for our floor. 

"But he's the only person you see. Doesn't that get tiring?"

"No."

"Maybe later then?" 

I think he's really lonely. I sigh. 

"Alright. Come by, but you can't stay long. I'm meant to meet Graham again tonight." 

"Great, it'll be fun." 

"How old are you, Alex?" I ask, walking off the lift. 

"I'm twenty-five. Why do you ask?" 

He seems younger.

"Just wondering," I shrug, jamming my keys into my front door. 

"Right then," he leans against my door frame, "see you soon?" 

"Yeah," I nod, trying hard to not slam the door in his face. He stares at me again for just a second, a smug grin across his face. "Bye Alex," I wave and close the door. 

What have I done?

-

Alex knocks at two-thirty. 

"Hi," I greet, opening the door for him. 

"How are you? You're looking more lively than you did this morning." 

"Great," I hum, closing the door behind me. I catch him staring at me, his brows knitted together. "What?" 

"Are you drunk?" 

"Only a little," I grunt, laying down on the couch. 

"Damon, it isn't even three."

"So what?"

"Right," he sits next to me and leans back into the arm of the couch. 

"How do you know Graham again?" He asks me. 

"Met him in a pub on a particularly lonely night after his ex kicked him out." 

"I was going to ask about that. When was that?" 

"Few months ago. Three, maybe. He met with her for lunch today," I chuckle. "Which I think is funny, since he purposely got rid of anything that reminds him of her. " 

"Yeah," he laughs, "that's definitely a way to get over someone. You know, by dating them." 

"Exactly. He tells me to leave Justine, but then he goes for lunch with Isabelle the next day. Hypocritical, really." 

"Isabelle? He stayed with her for that long? My God." 

"Yeah. I don't know anything about her, but she doesn't seem like the nicest person. " 

"Oh, she's awful. Controlling, manipulative. He was a hermit when I met him, but she made it so much worse. He would go to the pubs with me every so often; she came along and kept him all to herself. He had so many friends but she didn't like any of us so he cut us all off." 

"Really?" I furrow my brows. I can't imagine Graham being that way. "He only recently been the one to start talking." 

"He did that with me, too. He's shy, but once you get him talking he never stops." 

"Yeah." I love that about him. I love listening to what he has to say. 

"He's really smart too," I smile, not looking at him. "A great artist. I wish he'd play me his music, but he gets all embarrassed." 

I think of the way he blushes when I ask him to play, the way he laughs when I poke at his side and tease him for it. 

"He's good. It's all arty and weird, but that's him." 

"Mhm," I hum.

It's funny to me that he says that, since he hasn't really known Graham for a while. He's basing it off of how he was in school. A lot changes in the better half of a decade. A lot has changed in the few months I've known the man.

However, he is quite "arty" and "weird," as Alex said.

I can feel his eyes on me, but I ignore him. He probably doesn't know he's doing it. 

Finally, after a few moments. I look over at him. I haven't ever looked at him long, but I don't mind it now. He's quite attractive. He smiles at me. 

"Why do you think I'm gay?" I ask him, scrunching up my face. 

"What?" 

"You asked if I was a poof a few months ago. Why?" 

"I-I don't know really. I guess it's you and Graham-"

"Before I met him. You asked me if I was a poof less than 24 hours after I'd met him." 

"I just kind of felt like you were, I guess."

"That's a little fucked up, Alex." 

"Maybe, but I always kind of hoped you were." 

I furrow my brows, leaning back in my seat. Then it hits me. 

"Oh," I gasp, looking at him, "oh my God. Justine owes me money," I laugh. 

"And me assuming you're gay was fucked up." 

"Are you gay?"

"No," he scoffs. 

"Bisexual?" 

"Maybe. After a drink, definitely." 

"That's what I said until I met my first boyfriend. I nearly died when I saw him the first time." 

"Maybe," he laughs, "I said maybe." 

I laugh at him. 

"What turned you?" 

"I don't know, Bowie maybe?" 

"God, he turns everyone. Give me something good," I laugh. 

"No! It really was Bowie. Was it not the same for you?"

"1977 Freddie Mercury," I cross my legs, pulling one to my chest. 

"Specific." 

"Mhm, that harlequin leotard was magical." 

He laughs and sighs deeply, smiling at me. 

"What?" I look up to meet his eyes. He leans in close, breathing heavy. He holds my face gently with one hand and quickly closes the space between us.

I gasp, causing him to quickly pull away. We make eye contact for a moment, and for some reason, I can't stop myself from pulling him back in. It may be that I'm tipsy, or that I haven't been kissed with any emotion in a very long time. Either way, the feeling of being held by someone else is intoxicating. 

I pull away, and a wave of guilt and self hatred drowns me. My stomach drops and I suddenly can't look at him. 

"I-you need to go," I stutter, standing quickly. "I"m sorry," I choke, avoiding his eyes because I know that I'll cry. I definitely cannot cry in front of him. 

"I'm sorry-"

"No, don't be. It isn't you. I-I'll tell you about it later." 

He just nods and stands up, making his way out. 

The flood gates open when my face hits my pillow. The world spins around me and my lungs can't seem to get enough air. 

"Fuck," I choke out. I'm going to throw up. 

Images of Justine flood my brain. The smile on her face as we said our vows, and the inevitable devastation I will have to see take her over. She'll leave me. But at least she'd be with someone who loves her, right? Someone who treats her the way she deserves? Not someone like me- wretched and unfaithful. She deserves so much more than I can give her. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. 

I repeat to myself. I can't believe I'm letting myself do this again. 

I stand, but I can't feel my feet under me. They take me to the kitchen, the cold linoleum sending shivers through my body as it meets the floor. I wipe my eyes and try to catch my breath, but if feels so far away.

So I let it happen, let it all out of me. Sobbing to myself, praying no one would ever have to see me this way. It's pathetic. I can't stop thinking. 

I keep breaking my own heart.

I can't stop thinking of Justine; the way she used to smile at me just because she was happy to be with me. Or when she would help my mum cook on Christmas, and I'd listen to them sing together. I don't even remember our last good Christmas. 

I think of Graham and Isabelle, too. She probably makes him so happy. Happier than I ever could. I'll bet they've fallen for one another again, and I'm back to square one.

None of these things make me feel better, but I've caught my breath. I could just not tell her that I kissed Alex, pretend it never happened. That's what I do when she goes off with him.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to try and calm the rest of the way down. My apartment is silent, which just makes it that much harder to be here. I try and focus on the hum of the refrigerator to drown out the quiet.

Once I can breathe again, I pull myself up and open the freezer to pour myself some shots to get myself through the afternoon.

The liquor burns as it runs down my throat. I close my eyes and down another before laying my head against the side of the refrigerator. 

I can't believe I let myself get this way twice in one day. After a while of only one episode (as Justine calls them) I had two in one day. She's right about me being weak.

I'm just so tired of feeling this way. 

\---


	8. Chapter 8

Graham is nearly always gone when I wake up at his house. He needs to be to work before I do, and I think he's given up on me letting him take me to work. He'd cleaned up our mess from the night before and left me a note, not unlike the ones he always left.

_ Damon, _

_ I left for work. I would like to hang out again tonight, if you'll have me. _

_ I would advise against skipping work today, since I know you want to. Stay safe. _

_ \- Graham _

_ P.S. I have some leftovers in the fridge if you end up staying home or need a lunch. Don't stay home. I'd hate to have to kill you. _

I smile to myself as I read the note. He's a sweetheart. I'm really happy he's comfortable around me, and has somewhat come out of his shell. But his handwriting is terrible.

I sigh and pick up the phone to dial my office, since I absolutely do not plan to go in today. My eyes land on a note stuck to the fridge. Scribbled in blue ink, it reads:

_ Isabelle, 1:30, Fitz. _

Goddammit, Graham. I forgot he was meant to meet her. He's never going to get over her if he keeps meeting her for lunch.

He is kind of a hypocrite. He tells me that it isn't good for me to stay with Justine, but he can't seem to stay away from Isabelle. I don't know all that much about her, but anyone who makes Graham cry like that isn't exactly my favorite person. But of anyone, I know that being in love with someone will make you stupid.

I sigh to myself and dial the number to my office, telling them I'm sick again and I will see them on Monday.

In the back of my mind, I know he's right about Justine. So is Jamie. Leaving her would make sense. It would free me of so much hurt. But I can't do that to her. I can't hurt her. Not to mention, it'd destroy my poor mother.

I would lose all of my friends, too. They're all hers and I really don't like any of them at all, but at least I have people I can _ call  _ friends. I would have to deal with lawyers and courts, which I don't think I can afford. I would also be losing the only semi-constant in my life. She may not always be around, but I still have little reminders of her in my home.

But if I left, I wouldn't have to worry if she was ever coming back home. No worries about when she doesn't come home for a few days that she's either with him or dead. At least I know she's safe when she's with him.

I hope she knows I'm okay when I'm away, and that she doesn't need to worry. I don't know if she really even cares at all.

But that brings me to Graham. I think I like him. A lot. And I hate myself for it. I'm spending more time with him and I'm learning more about him and I'm  _ also _ slowly finding myself more and more enthralled with him. If I left Justine, I'd want to be with him. But he wouldn't want me. He wants Isabelle.

I take a deep breath and lay myself down on his sofa and switch on the TV. A distraction. But I can still only feel the weight of my situation sitting on my shoulders, my mind blaring over the sound coming from the television.

I could stay with her. I want to. I'll tell her I know about Andrew and that I have dreams about kissing Graham, and that he makes me happier than I've been in ages. It will go how it always does: she will apologize, she will cry, and she will tell me it won't happen again. I'll forgive her and she'll tell me I can't see Graham for a long time. We will be okay for a while, a few weeks or so. Then it will start again, and I'll drive her car into on-coming, rush-hour, central-London traffic. 

She's the reason I distanced myself from Graham. I figured that if I stayed away from him for long enough, my feelings for him would dissipate. But here I am, on his sofa at 10 A.M. on a Thursday morning after spending the night with him. All because I missed him. 

I close my eyes, pulling my legs into my chest. Maybe I am like Justine. I should give up, let myself fall for Graham. See how she feels about that. Make her leave me so I don't have to say the words. I don't even know what words I would say to her. I'm too pathetic, too much of a coward to say anything to her. 

I feel even more pathetic when I soak Graham's couch cushions with my tears. My chest feels as if it's going to collapse in on itself again, and I'm gasping for air. Why can't I stop? Why do I allow myself to get this way? My father would be ashamed to see his son crying like a girl over something as small as this. 

_ Stop _

I say to myself. 

_ Stop. Stop. Stop.  _

I can't stop, no matter how hard I try. I wipe my eyes and take shallow breaths, trying to calm myself. But I can't.

I just lie there and cry until I fall asleep.

-

I wake up again on the sofa, that strangely fresh "I just cried myself to sleep" kind of feeling filling my whole body. I feel sort of numb, but better. I've begun to think I was wrong about being numb before; I almost prefer it to  _ this.  _

I rub my eyes and let them focus on the TV, which is now playing a sitcom I don't recognize. I look to the clock on the end table, reading it at 11:58. Graham won't be home for a few hours. 

"Dammit," I sigh and pull myself off the sofa. I'm still in Graham's sweater and the sweatpants he forced me to put on before he'd allow me to drink. I rub my eyes again and make my way to the bathroom, trying to ignore the impending doom that will come with going home. I can't stay here alone again. I don't want to do that to Graham.

"Oh, Jesus," I scoff when I see myself in the mirror. My face is drained of any color, my eyes bloodshot. I look like a corpse. No wonder Justine doesn't like me anymore. 

Graham's clothes are all slightly too big on me. They smell like him, which is one thing I do enjoy. They smell like the summertime- fresh, sweet, dreamy. Much like him, actually. I keep myself wrapped up tightly in his jumper on the cab ride home. 

I, unfortunately, run into Alex on the way into the building. 

"Hi," he smiles that obnoxiously large smile. 

"Hey," I sniffle, walking past him to the lift.

"Are you okay?" He stops me, concern washed over his face. I throw on that fake 'I'm talking to the neighbor I pretend to like' smile and nod. He stares at me for a second. 

"I'm fine, Alex. Thank you. How are you?" 

"I'm great," he says, throwing on the aforementioned neighbor smile. We stand in silence for a moment, before he sighs and tells me he doesn't believe me. 

"Alex, I am fine. I promise." 

"Graham told me he hadn't seen you in a while and I realized that I hadn't either, and I got worried." 

It's strange to me that Graham cares enough to mention it to anyone.

"No need to worry, really. I've just been busy, is all. "

"You look like you haven't had a meal in weeks and you reek of booze."

"What does it matter to you?" 

Sometimes, just living on the same floor as him makes me angry. 

"I just care, I guess. As a neighbor and a mutual friend."

"Thanks, I guess." I press the 'up' button on the lift and turn to face the door, hoping Alex will pick up on it. 

"Why don't I come to your flat with you? My mum's at her sister's for the day. You seem like you need a friend." 

"I appreciate the offer, Alex, I really do, but I need to be alone. Plus, I just came from Graham's."

We step into the lift, him pressing the button for our floor. 

"But he's the  _ only  _ person you see. Doesn't that get tiring?"

"No."

"Maybe later then?" 

I think he's really lonely. I sigh. 

"Alright. Come by, but you can't stay long. I'm meant to meet Graham again tonight." 

"Great, it'll be fun." 

"How old are you, Alex?" I ask, walking off the lift. 

"I'm twenty-five. Why do you ask?" 

He seems younger.

"Just wondering," I shrug, jamming my keys into my front door. 

"Right then," he leans against my door frame, "see you soon?" 

"Yeah," I nod, trying hard to not slam the door in his face. He stares at me again for just a second, a smug grin across his face. "Bye Alex," I wave and close the door. 

What have I done?

-

Alex knocks at two-thirty. 

"Hi," I greet, opening the door for him. 

"How are you? You're looking more lively than you did this morning." 

"Great," I hum, closing the door behind me. I catch him staring at me, his brows knitted together. "What?" 

"Are you drunk?" 

"Only a little," I grunt, laying down on the couch. 

"Damon, it isn't even three."

"So what?"

"Right," he sits next to me and leans back into the arm of the couch. 

"How do you know Graham again?" He asks me. 

"Met him in a pub on a particularly lonely night after his ex kicked him out." 

"I was going to ask about that. When was that?" 

"Few months ago. Three, maybe. He met with her for lunch today," I chuckle. "Which I think is funny, since he purposely got rid of anything that reminds him of her. " 

"Yeah," he laughs, "that's definitely a way to get over someone. You know, by dating them." 

"Exactly. He tells me to leave Justine, but then he goes for lunch with Isabelle the next day. Hypocritical, really." 

"Isabelle? He stayed with her for  _ that  _ long? My God." 

"Yeah. I don't know anything about her, but she doesn't seem like the nicest person. " 

"Oh, she's awful. Controlling, manipulative. He was a hermit when I met him, but she made it so much worse. He would go to the pubs with me every so often; she came along and kept him all to herself. He had so many friends but she didn't like any of us so he cut us all off." 

"Really?" I furrow my brows. I can't imagine Graham being that way. "He only recently been the one to start talking." 

"He did that with me, too. He's shy, but once you get him talking he never stops." 

"Yeah." I love that about him. I love listening to what he has to say. 

"He's really smart too," I smile, not looking at him. "A great artist. I wish he'd play me his music, but he gets all embarrassed." 

I think of the way he blushes when I ask him to play, the way he laughs when I poke at his side and tease him for it. 

"He's good. It's all arty and weird, but that's him." 

"Mhm," I hum.

It's funny to me that he says that, since he hasn't really  _ known _ Graham for a while. He's basing it off of how he was in school. A lot changes in the better half of a decade. A lot has changed in the few months I've known the man.

However, he is quite "arty" and "weird," as Alex said.

I can feel his eyes on me, but I ignore him. He probably doesn't know he's doing it. 

Finally, after a few moments. I look over at him. I haven't ever looked at him long, but I don't mind it now. He's quite attractive. He smiles at me. 

"Why do you think I'm gay?" I ask him, scrunching up my face. 

"What?" 

"You asked if I was a poof a few months ago. Why?" 

"I-I don't know really. I guess it's you and Graham-"

"Before I met him. You asked me if I was a poof less than 24 hours after I'd met him." 

"I just kind of felt like you were, I guess."

"That's a little fucked up, Alex." 

"Maybe, but I always kind of hoped you were." 

I furrow my brows, leaning back in my seat. Then it hits me. 

"Oh," I gasp, looking at him, "oh my God. Justine owes me money," I laugh. 

"And me assuming you're gay was fucked up." 

"Are you gay?"

"No," he scoffs. 

"Bisexual?" 

"Maybe. After a drink, definitely." 

"That's what I said until I met my first boyfriend. I nearly died when I saw him the first time." 

"Maybe," he laughs, "I said maybe." 

I laugh at him. 

"What turned you?" 

"I don't know, Bowie maybe?" 

"God, he turns everyone. Give me something good," I laugh. 

"No! It really was Bowie. Was it not the same for you?"

"1977 Freddie Mercury," I cross my legs, pulling one to my chest. 

"Specific." 

"Mhm, that harlequin leotard was magical." 

He laughs and sighs deeply, smiling at me. 

"What?" I look up to meet his eyes. He leans in close, breathing heavy. He holds my face gently with one hand and quickly closes the space between us.

I gasp, causing him to quickly pull away. We make eye contact for a moment, and for some reason, I can't stop myself from pulling him back in. It may be that I'm tipsy, or that I haven't been kissed with any emotion in a very long time. Either way, the feeling of being held by someone else is intoxicating. 

I pull away, and a wave of guilt and self hatred drowns me. My stomach drops and I suddenly can't look at him. 

"I-you need to go," I stutter, standing quickly. "I"m sorry," I choke, avoiding his eyes because I know that I'll cry. I definitely cannot cry in front of him. 

"I'm sorry-"

"No, don't be. It isn't you. I-I'll tell you about it later." 

He just nods and stands up, making his way out. 

The flood gates open when my face hits my pillow. The world spins around me and my lungs can't seem to get enough air. 

"Fuck," I choke out. I'm going to throw up. 

Images of Justine flood my brain. The smile on her face as we said our vows, and the inevitable devastation I will have to see take her over. She'll leave me. But at least she'd be with someone who loves her, right? Someone who treats her the way she deserves? Not someone like me- wretched and unfaithful. She deserves so much more than I can give her. 

_ Stop. Stop. Stop.  _

I repeat to myself. I can't believe I'm letting myself do this again. 

I stand, but I can't feel my feet under me. They take me to the kitchen, the cold linoleum sending shivers through my body as it meets the floor. I wipe my eyes and try to catch my breath, but if feels so far away.

So I let it happen, let it all out of me. Sobbing to myself, praying no one would ever have to see me this way. It's pathetic. I can't stop thinking. 

I keep breaking my own heart.

I can't stop thinking of Justine; the way she used to smile at me just because she was happy to be with me. Or when she would help my mum cook on Christmas, and I'd listen to them sing together. I don't even remember our last good Christmas. 

I think of Graham and Isabelle, too. She probably makes him so happy. Happier than I ever could. I'll bet they've fallen for one another again, and I'm back to square one.

None of these things make me feel better, but I've caught my breath. I could just not tell her that I kissed Alex, pretend it never happened. That's what I do when she goes off with him.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to try and calm the rest of the way down. My apartment is silent, which just makes it that much harder to be here. I try and focus on the hum of the refrigerator to drown out the quiet.

Once I can breathe again, I pull myself up and open the freezer to pour myself some shots to get myself through the afternoon.

The liquor burns as it runs down my throat. I close my eyes and down another before laying my head against the side of the refrigerator. 

I can't believe I let myself get this way twice in one day. After a while of only one episode (as Justine calls them) I had two in one day. She's right about me being weak.

I'm just so tired of feeling this way. 

\---

  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

G

Isabelle is more beautiful than I remember. She cut her hair. It looks nice. 

Her voice is addicting, every word another hit. Even when she's as pissed off as she is now, I can't help but be mesmerized by her. 

She didn't want to meet with me. She doesn't think we're good for each other, which is why she kicked me out. She thinks meeting up is bad for our relationship, or whatever we have left. I'm just happy to see her. 

She's good for me. She's a good person. I just sucked all of the life out of her. 

"I'm sorry," I tell her again. 

"I know," she repeats. 

"I'm not here to get you back."

"That's not the way it seems." 

"No, it's really not that way." 

"Then why did you want to meet?"

"I have a problem and you're one of the three people I know. Besides Alex James, but I don't feel like talking to him about this."

"Alex James?" she asks. "I haven't heard that name in nearly a decade," she almost laughs. "When did he re-enter your life?" 

"He hasn't really. He just lives near one third of the people I know." 

"He's such a weirdo," she tucks her red hair behind her ear and takes a bite of her food. 

"Yeah, but he's sweet." 

"I never understood your friendship."

"You don't have to," I shrug, admiring every move she makes. "But, ehm," I clear my throat, "I've got a problem."

"And what's that?"

"I have a friend. Who is married. But I think that I'm rather attracted to them."

"You know, you are a lot of things, but I never took you as a homewrecker," she jokes. Things are starting to feel normal again. 

"I'm not a homewrecker. I'm not going to try and split them up, even if I don't like his wife all that much. I just don't know what to do with how I feel." 

"I'm a weird person to be talking to about this, Graham." 

"I know." 

"Well," she sighs, "what kind of attraction is it?"

"I don't know," I look away from her. I feel guilty already having any sort of attraction to anyone. "I don't want to say sexual, but definitely not romantic."

"Confusing."

"That's my point. I don't want just a shag nor do I want a relationship. I guess it's just...sensual maybe? Platonic affection? "

"Are the feelings mutal?"

"When we're drunk, yes. But I refuse to take advantage of that. " 

"That's good. "

"I'm afraid to like this person."

"Why?" 

"He's married, for one. And he's also a guy, and I've never felt attracted to a man before. "

"You're gay?"

"No."

"Well you obviously are if you like men."

"No," I sigh, hiding my face in my hands. "I still like women. But I also like him. I don't know what that means. "

"You can't like both." 

"He does."

"It's got to be his influence on you, then. He's obviously indecisive. He probably is really gay and is afraid of his wife. You probably need a break from him; make your feelings go away, get out of this phase. "

I want to tell her it isn't really like that, but I know she won't listen. 

"I did have a break from him. A month or so. She's rather emotionally abusive and is convinced I'm stealing him from her. She has him wrapped around her finger." 

"That's probably it then. He resents her so he's shagging men."

"No, he couldn't do that. He has every reason to cheat on her, but he couldn't. He's too broken down to act on any of this. It's hard to watch." 

"It sounds like neither of you are fit for love," she scoffs. I've never seem her act this way. 

"Isabelle," I sigh. She isn't going to understand. "He's great when he isn't around her. She has this power over him that makes it so easy for her to control him. But she's so strangely charming that it makes it all look so good. Like they have some great marriage." 

"But the thing is," she puts down her glass, looking up at me. "He will always be affected by it. Even if he left her now and you two ran away together to some remote island, he would still constantly be afraid. He'll cling to you and he'll blame himself for everything. You'll be playing therapist more than you'll be playing boyfriend. I don't even see why it would be worth it."

This really isn't the woman I fell in love with. Where's her compassion? What happened to her in the months we've been apart? 

I avoid her gaze, taking in a deep breath. I'm not sure what to say to her. I don't know why she is the one I decided to call. 

"That's beside the point." 

"What's your point, then?"

"I don't know what to do about it."

"Tell him. Make a move. It seems his marriage is falling apart anyway. If he likes you, great. If not, tough but you can deal with it." 

"It's not really that easy. He's kind of all over the place all the time with how he feels about anything, especially Justine." 

"He sounds like he's crazy."

"Maybe a bit. But I just...I can't stay away from him. A-and it isn't really his fault he's not all there. His wife's basically forced him to be and feel certain ways and she's ruined his trust." 

"I don't understand why you like him."

"You've never met him. He's kind of one of those people that everyone likes. He's funny, outgoing, and kind-hearted. He's got the face of a greek god too, so that helps him out too," I laugh, images of him playing in my head. 

"I'll have to meet him," she smiles. 

"Maybe, but when he's calmed down about it. He's protective and I was really upset about our breakup the night we met." 

"Is that the actual reason you called me?" 

"No, Izzy-" 

"Don't call me that." 

"I wanted to see you, yes, but-

"Graham, I don't want to do this right now. "

"We haven't talked since I left," I say, harsher than I intented. I stare her in the eyes, her letting out a deep sigh. 

"I did that on purpose." 

"Why?" My voice cracks. 

"Graham, you can't expect me to just be ready for that conversation. Besides, I have every right to keep that information to myself." 

I just stare at her. I can't believe her. 

"I just want to know what I did." 

"What if you didn't do anything? What if it's all me?"

"I know it isn't. You keep telling me that it's my fault, that I'm sick. I don't know what I've done to make you feel that way about me. It's torture to me. Knowing I hurt you." 

She looks down at her lap and takes a deep breath. She always does that when she's nervous. 

"I just couldn't deal with taking care of you anymore. You're an adult. You should know how to deal with this shit by now." 

"Deal with what?" 

I know what she's going to say. 

"You're crazy, Graham. Normal people don't need their fiancees to check them into a psych ward every six months. "

"It's not my fault," I say quietly after a moment. 

"It never is." 

"I'm sorry." 

"You always are." 

"You've never been sorry." 

"I've got nothing to be sorry for, Graham." 

"Right." 

"Thank you for lunch," she sighs, pulling her wallet from her bag. I can't believe it's over, just like that.

"I'll pay. You go back to work. Thanks for coming. "

-

I don't know how I feel after meeting with her. I am upset, but there's a weird sense of closure there. I know I'm not well, but I didn't realize what a toll it took on her. I just wish she'd been nicer about it. Maybe she's right, maybe I am not fit for love. But that doesn't make me love her any less. Even if she isn't the same as she used to be. 

I think my time away from her has caused me to romanticize her and the way she used to be. Or maybe she isn't what I thought she was. Either way, I'm hurt by what I saw this afternoon. I hope I can see Damon tonight and talk to him about it. I hope he can give me levelheaded advice, but he's kind of a wreck. 

I go straight to bed when I get home, however. I've talked to way too many people today. It's exhausting. 

I wake up to my phone ringing, and my heart skips a beat at the slim possibility that it's Damon. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, Gra," he yawns on the other line. 

"Damon?" 

"Who else would it be?"

He's right. 

"What's up?" 

"I want you to come over." 

"Alright," I laugh. "When?" 

"Now. Please. I did a dumb thing." 

"What did you do?" I ask, pulling myself out of bed. 

"I kissed Alex. Well," he pauses, "I guess he kissed me. But I didn't not kiss him back." 

"Christ," I scoff jokingly, pulling on my jeans. 

"Yeah," he sighs, "I don't feel too awesome about it. I drank until I fell asleep on my floor and now I'm hungover and I need a hug. "

"I'm on my way, " I laugh at him. The way he speaks is so charming, he's so sure of himself. I'd like to know what he thinks about throughout the day. 

He keeps his promise to me as I walk through the door and pulls me into a strong hug. I close the door behind us with my free arm, laughing as I accept his embrace. 

"You've got to cut back on the drinking, mate. You'll kill yourself." 

"But I'll have fun while I do it." 

"Damon, I don't think you're drinking for fun anymore." 

"Shh," he huffs, tightening our hug. 

"Did you call me over just to hug me?" 

"No," he pulls away from me and stretches his arms above his head. 

"Is that my jumper?" 

"Maybe." 

He looks cute in it. 

"You can keep it," I shrug. 

"I was going to anyway." 

I grin at him for a moment. 

"So, uhm, tell me more about Alex. Please." 

He sighs and bites down on his bottom lip. 

"He came over and we talked about stuff. Aimless conversation, really. It was nice," he smiles. 

"He kissed you?" 

I can't say that doesn't make me a bit jealous. 

"Yeah, and then for some reason I kissed him back. It was so nice. T-to be held like that. I could tell he meant it, you know?" 

My face feels warm as he continues to talk. My heart breaks a little for him, and a little for myself. I wanted to be his first defiant-of-Justine kiss. I nod in response. 

"But then I realized what was happening and I made him leave. I am really mad at myself now." 

"Why? Damon, you deserve to feel that all the time. You don't need to feel bad for being happy." I look him in this eyes. I put aside my slight anger towards Alex to listen to him. 

"Don't start with that." 

"What? I-"

"It didn't make me happy."

God dammit. He really is dumb. I don't want to have this conversation right now. 

"There's no reason to feel bad about it, love. It was just a kiss." 

"Justine would throw me out if she knew. I don't want to tell her." 

I sigh deeply, shaking my head. I can't wait to see him leave her. 

"Alright." 

"How was Isabelle?" 

"Great," I smile. "We talked. I don't think I ever want to meet with her again." 

"Oh," he sits on the counter, "why is that?" 

"Dunno," I hum, sitting next to him. "She basically told me my depression is my fault, and that you and I are indecisive bastards because we both like women and men-" 

"I didn't know you liked men." 

"Me either. But she wasn't at all helpful nor did she seem to care to be there. She acted really immaturely. I'm not even sure I met with the right woman." 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, giving me a thin-lipped, sad smile. "If it helps, it's not your fault your brain is kind of a dick and decided to not work. " 

"I know. I just wish she knew that. A lot of things would be easier." 

"I know I'm kind of shit at expressing what I have to say, but I'll always listen to you." 

"Thank you," I hum. He really is bad at talking, but as I said before, he's sure of himself and I know he means well. 

"How do you feel about it all?" 

"Strange. I know now what she meant by the words she told me. I also know that it's not worth it to get her back, and that she isn't the same woman I knew." 

He nods, understanding. 

"I'm happy for you." 

"Thanks," I smile briefly. "What's on the agenda this evening?" 

I hope we aren't drinking. 

"Not sure. I was thinking we could get takeout and watch a movie here. We can stop by the rental place and pick somethin' up. " 

"Would Justine like that?" 

"No," he shrugs. "But I like it. And as long as we know it's just friendly, there isn't a problem. "

I really don't understand him. 

"She doesn't like that you and I are friends at all. I'm just so alone all the time now that she's gone away again that I need someone around me. " 

"Well, in that case, I guess we can go,"I laugh. 

-

"Thank you for coming over. I'm sorry I kind of dump all my problems on you," he says to me over dinner. The floor in front of the couch is our seating of choice. 

"No, don't be. I enjoy your company. " 

"Good. Because I'm here to stay. Even if my wife doesn't like it." 

"I like you when you're being rebellious." 

"It's kind of exhilarating." 

Great, now kiss me. 

I just laugh at him and eat my food. 

"Who was your first kiss?" 

"Hm," I lay my head back on the couch, "a girl named Ashton. Year 10. It happened during spin the bottle at a birthday party. I cried." 

He laughs at me, "girls are scary." 

"You married one." 

"A scary one. " 

"You aren't wrong about that. Who was your first kiss?" I ask, meeting his gaze. 

"It was a bloke named Paul. He was shit at it, but I was a little repressed fourteen year old boy who was confused by his hormones." 

"How old was he?" 

"Seventeen, also full of self-hatred. He kissed me a lot when our friends weren't around, but he'd beat me up at school." 

"Have you kissed any other guys? Besides Alex, I mean."

"Oh yeah," he laughs. "I had a boyfriend before I met Justine. His name was Peter. I think I loved him. Whatever love is then. " 

I wonder what Damon's like when he's in love with someone-for real. I wonder what it's like to love him. 

"Paul was my sexual awakening," he giggles, "which is a shame." 

"I'm so inexperienced," I laugh. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I've kissed like, a total of two or three people in my whole life. I've only slept with one. You've had all of the experiences. I'm behind." 

"Not all of them. I've never done cocaine with French prostitutes before." 

"I have," I joke. 

"See!" he cheers, "you've got me beaten there." 

"A milestone." 

He sighs happily, laying his head on my shoulder. 

"I feel so bad for kissing Alex." 

"You don't have to, love. You didn't mean it to hurt Justine, nor did you mean it with any love toward him. It's all going to be fine." 

"I guess."

"Is he a good kisser?" I tease, only a little jealous. 

"Yeah. Assertive," he laughs. 

"Would you go for him if you could?" 

"Ooh, yeah," he breathes, "you've seen him. He annoys the hell out of me but holy hell."

"You're shallow," I tease, pretending it doesn't hurt just a tad to hear how he fancies Alex. 

"I just like pretty things. I like you, don't I?" 

My face goes warm again and I don't think I can say anything. He looks over at me, a smug smile plastered across his face. 

"I don't think I'm all that attractive." 

"Suit yourself," he laughs and takes a sip of his drink. He has to know he drives me crazy, right? 

"Damon," I sigh, looking down at him. 

"Yes, Graham?" 

I shake my head, "nothing. Sorry."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." 

"You have paint in your hair," he hums, scooting closer and pulling himself up onto his knees. 

"I always do." 

"It's a good look," he chuckles. I close my eyes as he runs his fingers through my hair, pulling at it here and there-presumably removing said paint. The scent of vanilla envelopes me, my lungs taking in every ounce of him I can get. My hand hesitantly rests on his waist, a small chuckle escaping his lips. 

"What?" I look up at him. 

"Nothing," he hums, continuing to play with my hair. I want to hold him closer, kiss him the way he deserves to be kissed. It would be so wrong. 

I lean into him- involuntarily- causing him to laugh. 

"I'm sorry." 

He sighs softly and sits his body next to mine. 

"I'm not bothered," he grins. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah," he lays his head back on the couch. I look down at him, watching him for a moment. My heart flutters when his gaze falls to my lips. He smiles and looks away.

  
  


"I think I want to leave," he says, sitting up straight. He'd been silent for a while with his eyes glued to the television. 

"What?" 

"Justine." 

"Where did that come from?"

"I've been thinking a lot. I'm holding her back, she doesn't deserve that. "

He's just almost got it. 

"In what way are you holding her back?" 

"She doesn't want me anymore," he states. "I-I should have realized it a long time ago. I'm not right for her." 

I sigh, facing him with a sad, thin smile. 

"I'm proud of you for coming to that. It's hard to realize that the person you thought you'd love forever doesn't really want to love you anymore."

"Thanks," he sighs. "I just don't know when or how I want to do it."

"Let's just pack up my car and drive until we're done, and not tell anybody. She'll get the point."

"As tempting as that is, I think she'd have me executed if I didn't give her an explanation." 

"Write her a note from Beijing. "

"Maybe," he smiles at me. "I still love her. A lot. So much I've gone blind." 

"I know."

"It's going to destroy me to see her upset. "

"I know," I sigh, "but you need to do it. This isn't a good place for you. I've told you before, but you deserve to be happy. And this isnt it." 

I'm ready for him to fight me, argue that they're happy. Healthy. 

Instead, he sighs deeply and looks to his lap. 

"I know." 

"I'm proud of you," I repeat, resting my hand on his knee. He nods. "Where is she now, anyway? She's usually home now, isn't she?" 

"Yeah. We got in a fight yesterday morning. That's how I ended up on your couch, remember?"

"So she's not coming home?"

"Not for a few days. She's either with him or at a girlfriend's house. I just wish she'd tell me. I don't even care which one it is anymore. " 

"No, I get it," I hum. "It's become the norm, right? So much so that it doesn't hurt anymore?" 

"I guess," he sighs. "But it does hurt. I-I live to love her. And I cheated on her today." 

"How would she react?" 

"Hard to tell. I said I'm not telling her before, and I seriously considered it, but that would be hypocritical. She doesn't tell me things and it upsets me. I shouldn't do the same back." 

He's way too nice to people. 

"I guess you're right. When are you going to tell her?" 

"I don't know. I'm not ready to face that."

"I'll be here for you when it happens," I reassure.

"Thanks," he breathes lightly and pulls himself closer. 

He falls asleep that way, empty takeout boxes scattered about the room. His body feels so small next to mine, almost delicate. I can't move without waking him. I don't really want to, any way. I want to hold him tight and keep him warm. 

Being near him like this puts me through a whirlwind of emotions. It's safe here with him. I know that he won't judge me or hurt me for anything I do or say, but I'm afraid of what that's making me feel. 

I've never been attracted to a man before. Sure, I've been able to appreciate a good looking guy here and there in the past, but that isn't the same. I didn't even really know what bisexual meant three months ago, and now I'm considering it for myself. 

I don't understand how I feel toward Damon, but it's more than friendship to me. I don't know if it means I'm truly into men, or if I just like Damon. I'm not even sure if I like Damon or if I'm just lonely. 

I lie there with him for a while, drifting in and out if sleep. I turn the tv down, the volume only a low mumble. I can barely hear it over Damon sleep talking. I can't quite make out what he's saying, although I can't help but swoon when I hear his voice. He's now laying all the way down, his head in my lap. If it were anyone else, the affection would be uncomfortable. 

The doorbell rings, Damon flinching. He groans and looks up at me, confusion and a bit of anger written all over his face. 

"I'll be back, go back to sleep " I coo, standing up. He nods, yawning. 

I glance at the clock on the way to the door. How the hell did it get to be a quarter past ten? 

"Oh, hi Graham," an unusually somber Alex James greets. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," I glance over my shoulder to the couch, "Damon just invited me over for a movie. He's asleep now."

"Right," he nods, "can you tell him I stopped by? Wanted to talk to him."

"S-sure, Alex." 

He nods, staring at me for a second. 

"You know," I start, my eyes glued to the floor. "It isn't your fault he reacted how he did. He's got a lot going on. His head isn't really on right." 

"I know," he sighs. "I still feel bad. Seeing him panic like that..." he trails off, not looking at my face. "I don't want to be the one that makes him freak out." 

"Yeah. He'll be okay. He didn't seem upset with you. He's blaming himself for it." 

"Why? I kissed him."

"'Cause," I bite my tongue, "I don't know. He's really sensitive, especially when it comes to his relationship."

"It's bad."

"I don't think either of us know just how bad it is," I sigh. 

"Does she hurt him?" He asks carefully. 

"Not that I know of. Not physically. He has blisters on his legs and a few scars here and there, but I don't think they're from her."

"I've always worried about that. It's painfully obvious that they don't love each other. He seems different when she's around." 

"He loves her. Or, an idealized version of her. She sees me as a threat," I chuckle. 

"You? A threat? To what?" 

"She says it's to their relationship since he's so affectionate towards me, but that's just how he is. He likes people, he's comfortable around them. I think she's worried he'll realize that people are supposed to treat you like you matter. She's worried she will lose that power over him." 

"God," he huffs, "I knew she was bad but I didn't think it was that bad."

"Yeah. He's talking about leaving her. He thinks he's holding her back from being with someone she actually wants to be around. I wish it was for the obvious reasons, but they just aren't as apparent to him." 

"That's better than not leaving at all."

"Yeah, but it's still damaging." 

"Well," he sighs. "You're a great friend. You keep him safe and make sure he knows I want to talk to him." 

"I will. It was nice to see you. " 

"You too," he grins. 

I wave him down the hallway, watching him go into his flat. Chuckling lightly to myself, I return to Damon.

"Damon," I whisper, rubbing his shoulder. "Damon, mate, wake up."

"Hm?" He grunts. 

"Go get in your bed. I'll sleep out here." 

"No, just cuddle me here." 

I smile to myself. 

"There's more room to cuddle on your bed."

"Mhm," he hums. 

"Get up."

"Make me." 

"Damon, please," I whine. 

"Fine," he stretches his muscles, finally looking up at me.

  
  
  


I watch him as he flops into bed and snuggles up under the duvet. 

"Come on." 

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," I laugh, laying next to him. He holds onto my arm, grinning at me. 

"What?" 

"Go to sleep," he whispers, closing his eyes. 

"I will," I hum. 

His grip on me loosens as he drifts off. The dim glow of the moon-lit rain outside illuminates his sleeping face, making him look just that much more angelic. I close my eyes and listen to him breathe, eventually falling asleep too. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any inconsistencies or typos. thank u all ily


	10. Chapter 10

I wake to Graham snoring next to me. I grin to myself, chuckling softly. The morning sun on his pale, soft complexion is definitely a sight I could get used to.

I stare up at him for a moment, sighing in content. His arm rests on my waist, the other tucked under his head. I listen to him breathe for a second, before gently laying my head against his chest. His grip on me tightens, a grin spreading across my face.

"Good morning," he yawns.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't really," he mumbles, very poorly lying.

"Alright," I lay back, gazing up at the ceiling.

"No, come back here."

I laugh and snuggle closer to him. He's really come out of his shell since I met him and I love it. He isn't afraid to say things. I wonder if that's why Isabelle fell in love with him.

"You know," I hum, "this isn't a very straight thing to do. You sure you're not _really_ into guys, Graham?"

"That's a big question this early in the morning."

"I respect that," I shrug, laughing.

"How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby. You?"

"About the same. First time in a while."

"Me too," I close my eyes, "do you want to go out for coffee?"

"Mhm," he mumbles.

"Let's get up."

"No, you're warm."

"Graham, " I groan.

"Sh, Damon, I'm trying to sleep."

"I want coffee."

Graham opens his eyes and stares at me for a second. He sighs and lays on his back. 

"Alright. Can I borrow a shirt or something?"

"Yeah," I laugh, "you should start keeping clothes here."

"I could say the same to you about my flat, you know. "

"I guess. I have some of your clothes here anyway," I stand from the bed, heading to my closet.

"You're smaller than me, I doubt I'd fit in yours. "

"Not by much," I shrug, "plus, I like to buy my clothes a little big. They'd probably fit you the same way they fit me."

I pull the t-shirt I came home in a couple weeks ago from a hanger. I toss it to him before pulling one down for myself.

"Justine thinks we're sleeping together."

"I know," he laughs. "I mean, you do wear my clothes home. I hate to give her the benefit of the doubt but," he sits up, shrugging.

"I guess." He's right. I need to stop staying the night at his place.

"I'll be right back," he tells me, disappearing into the restroom.

I bite down on my bottom lip hard. I try not to panic as I my head floods with possible outcomes if Justine were to come home right now. I will not let myself panic. I'm leaving her soon. It'll all be okay.

"You okay?" He asks when he returns.

"Yeah," I smile at him, pretending I didn't just choke back a monsoon of emotion.

"Shall we?"

-

We end up at a café a few doors down from my building. I've been here a few times with Justine. They make cinnamon bread that's almost as good as my mum's.

"This is cute," he says as we take a seat at a table.

"Yeah, I love it. They have really good pastries and sandwhiches. But their coffee is my favorite," I tell him, sipping off my mug.

"We'll have to get food to go then," he smiles.

Talking with Graham always feels so comfortable. He doesn't expect me to be a certain way. I don't have to pretend to like fancy foods or opera or this season's fashion that I truly know nothing about. It isn't like it is when Justine takes me out with her friends. It isn't even really how it with Jamie or our friends from school.

Graham is simple in his tastes. He's set in his ways and really doesn't care what other people do with their lives. It's refreshing.

We don't even have anything to talk about. It feels like we've known each other our whole lives and nothing is awkward anymore. He isn't afraid to make jokes, poke fun, or even call me out. A few months ago, I couldn't even get him to talk to me. Alex was right about getting to know Graham.

"Damon," he starts, "have you thought more about what you said last night?"

"I'm afraid I said a lot of things last night."

"No," he chuckles, "about Justine. "

"Oh," I furrow my brows and look away from him. "I don't know."

"I think it's the right thing to do."

"Maybe," I sigh. "I want her to be happy. She isn't happy with me."

"She's cheating on you."

"I know, Graham."

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yeah, but that isn't important. It isn't her fault she doesn't love me anymore."

"It isn't yours either," he sighs. I watch him for a second as he collects his thoughts. "She's the one who is hurting _you_. I need you to realize that."

"It is my fault, Graham. She loves someone else and I'm holding her back-"

"She has the power to leave. She's had it all this time. She's sticking around because she can control you. You need to put your foot down."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"Damon," he looks at my eyes, "do you care about yourself?"

I look away from him again, leaning back in my chair. I reach for my coffee and take a drink, taking as long as possible to tell him the truth. I take a deep breath and look him in the face.

"No."

"Do you care about Justine?"

"A lot."

He nods. He wears a strange mix of frustration, sadness, and realization in his expression.

"Do you think I care about you?"

"Yeah, I-I really hope so."

"Do you think Justine genuinely does?"

"Yes."

"Right," that same wave of emotions covers him. "Damon, I don't think there are words to describe how much I want you to be happy. How much you deserve to be happy. You are not happy with her. It's killing you."

I close my eyes and sigh deeply. He's right. It's killing me, slowly, with the tiniest of daggers. I'm not sure if that really matters to me anymore, though. It's so pathetic that seeing him once or twice a week is literally the _only thing_ I look forward to. I wish I could still look forward to seeing Justine. I miss her.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"I'm not angry with you, " he says calmly. "You don't need to be sorry."

"I'm going to do it, " I sigh. "I don't know how. She's the only thing in my life that's constant, a-and I don't want to give that up. "

"You're strong enough to do it, Damon."

"I don't know. I can't see a life without her."

"I know how that feels," he chuckles sadly. I send him a sad smile in return.

"Are you enjoying your coffee?" I ask, hoping to divert the conversation.

"Yeah, thank you. You need to stop insisting on paying for everything we do."

"I like to pay," I shrug. "You actually appreciate the things I do."

I don't remember the last time Justine liked something I did for her.

"I really do, you just need to let me pay every once in a while. Don't wanna mooch off you."

"I don't mind."

-

He doesn't ask me about her again. But I can't stop thinking about it--life without her, being able to breathe. But I can't stop picturing her crying. I miss her.

We're now at Graham's flat, completely on accident. He gets me talking and I can't stop, then somehow we're somewhere we didn't mean to go.

I mentioned this before, but I love talking with Graham. He has so many interesting things to say and his head is full of useless information. He's fascinated by the way people think, which is why he loves art so much. 

"But you're hard to understand," he tells me, looking at me.

"Why's that?"

"Well,"he looks away, "I never know what you're thinking, or what to expect from you. It's interesting. "

I just laugh at him. He lies on the floor next to me, me sitting against the couch. The floor is always more comfortable.

"You're interesting, too, you know?"

"I'd hope so, I don't want to bore you."

"You don't. I sometimes worry I do annoy you though."

He sighs, "you don't, though. You're my best friend. I like to hear what you've got to say."

"I don't like being around myself, I don't understand why you like it."

"Like I said, you're interesting. _Intriguing._ "

"Alright, " I laugh. I hear him sigh in content, my eyes falling on him. His are glued to the ceiling, a soft grin on his face. I want to kiss him.

 _No, no I don't._ Kissing Graham would not be good.

Yes it would. It would be so nice. But the aftermath would be catastrophic.

"Was Isabelle your first girlfriend?" I ask. I love to hear him talk and I don't really want to think about kissing him.

"Yeah, " he laughs. "I was always too awkward to talk to the boys in my school, _let alone_ the girls. I'm quite shy, Damon. I met her a similar way I met you."

"Alex told me you met her at University."

"I did. At a pub not far off campus. I didn't talk a lot, but she insisted I take her number. I never called, since I have a fear of talking on the phone. She found me later."

"That's kind of cute," I laugh, " a little scary."

"How did you meet Justine?"

"Remember Peter, my first boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

"His best friend. She used to be so sweet," I lament. "She loved everyone. We always made small romantic gestures to each other. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she's gone kind of sour."

"I know," he coos, smiling up at me. He always gives that sad, supportive smile when I talk about her. "But," he sits up, "you know everything will be okay. Even if it doesn't look that way right now. You'll be able to live without her."

I nod, sniffling. I don't want to cry in front of him again.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning into me. I look over at him, blinking away tears. I'm so pathetic. "It'll be okay." His hand rests on my knee, his thumb tracing small circles.

I take in a deep, shaky breath and lean into him, allowing myself to break down. Graham holds me close, rubbing my back as I sob. He doesn't really try to console me, he just lets me cry.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle again.

"No," his fingers move to my hair, "don't be sorry for crying. You need to cry sometimes."

I pull myself closer, crying harder. The feeling of being close to someone is so good, but it makes me cry more. I know he cares about me. It feels so different. 

"I'm sorry," I repeat, "I-I'm so sick o-of feeling like this."

"I know," he whispers, "but like I said, you're going to be okay. It'll all be okay."

His words are soothing. I can catch my breath now and listen to his once more. My body is calm, but the tears keep falling. I feel bad for wetting his shirt.

He holds me for a long time.; until I've stopped crying and I can breathe properly. 

I feel loved.

"Do you feel better?" He asks.

I just shrug. I don't know what I'm feeling.

"Crying helped me for a long time. When I was still going to therapy, she told me that sometimes crying just makes things feel better," he runs his fingers through my hair. "You let things out. It's good and you shouldn't be ashamed."

I nod.

I feel his hand leave my hair and move down to my face, cupping in carefully. My eyes meet his and he smiles at me. I rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes.

"Thank you,"I say quietly. My chest feels heavy, but not in the guilty way that it usually does. I guess the way I feel is broken. Like I'm no longer a whole and everything I've held inside me is leaking out. And Graham is there to put it back together, in a sense.

"Do you want to take a nap?" He asks. "I think you deserve one. "

"Maybe. "

"Alright, get up," he chuckles, patting my back. I stand up and sniffle again, wiping my eyes. He told me that it's okay, but I still feel like a child. My father would be rolling in his grave right now.

He always told me boys don't cry, except when people die. Somewhat ironically, I didn't cry when he died.

He'd die again if he knew his son just cried his heart out in another man's arms.

I cuddle up in Graham's bed, my eyes closing. I feel him lay next to me.

"Damon," he says.

"Hm?" I look at him.

"Come closer."

I laugh at him and pull myself closer. Three months ago Graham would not request we cuddle while we nap.

He puts one arm around me, my face buried in his chest. He smells the way the forest behind my grandparents' house smelled after the rain. I close my eyes, sighing. I'm exhausted.

Before I can fall asleep, I feel him press a kiss to my forehead. I gasp quietly, hoping he didn't hear. I feel like crying again.

"Sorry," he breathes, pulling away from me.

"It's not a problem," I mumble, pulling his arm back over me. He chuckles and does it again, making me laugh this time.

"Stop it," I giggle. "'M trying to sleep." 

He laughs, his eyes meeting mine before travelling down to my lips. Both of us breathe heavily, his hand moving from my back to hold my face.

 _Do it._ I think to myself. What an awful idea. I close my eyes as his thumb gently strokes my cheek. I nearly fall asleep like that.

He's gentle and sweet. I feel safe with him. Safer than I've ever felt with another human being. I let out a gentle sigh, enjoying his touch.

Then suddenly, Graham's lips are on mine. Everything feels right; safe, secure, and warm. He holds me tight, lingering there for a moment.

I don't feel what I felt with Alex. Graham is just as strong, but he holds me so delicately. There's no panic; no fear boiling up and festering inside of me. Just peace. Warmth, happiness--yet, somehow, it feels cathartic. I can feel everything he's ever felt.

He pulls away and we make eye contact.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Why?"

He looks at me, furrowing his brows. I look away from him, taking in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry" he sighs, "I-I really don't know why I did that. I knew it would make you panic and-"

"Graham," I say quietly. He looks at me. "It's okay. I'm not upset."

"Oh."

I nod and lean up to kiss him again. He kisses me back deeply and quickly, as if he'd been waiting his whole life. He laughs when he pulls away, gazing down at me.

"What's so funny?" I huff.

"I just," he pauses and gazes out into nowhere, "I've been wanting to kiss you for weeks and I was afraid to even _try_ to make a move. Then Alex kissed you and I kind of decided I wasn't going to try anything at all. Obviously, that didn't happen."

"Oh."

Oh boy.

He's been wanting to kiss me? _Me?_ I figured for some reason I would not be his taste in person. 

"Is that okay?" He looks over at me.

I'm not sure if it's okay. Even if I want to leave her, I'm still with her. Even if she doesn't love me, I still love her. But if I still love her, why did kissing Graham feel that way? Why do I feel okay? Why didn't panic the way I did when it was Alex?

"Yeah," I mumble.

"You sure?" His tone is uncertain, concern riddled in his voice.

"Yeah,"I repeat and lay my head back down on his chest. Graham wraps one arm around me, holding me tight.

I _was_ feeling okay. All I could really think of was Graham, but now Justine is all that's on my mind. I feel dirty. 

-

Graham and I leave his flat at about five pm and walk back to mine. It isn't anything special. Just our usual, aimless conversation and a shared cigarette. He doesn't say anything about our kiss or about Alex or about Justine.

He says a quick goodbye before getting into his car and leaving.

I call Jamie as soon as I get upstairs.

"A lot happened since I saw you last," I tell him.

"Oh yeah?" I can picture him smirking on the other line.

"Yeah, "I sigh, resting against the wall. "Well, Justine has been gone for a few days. We got into a fight. "

"What about?"

"She doesn't like how much time I'm spending away from home." 

"God," he laughs, "how many nights a week do you see her?" 

"Three, if I'm lucky. She'll kiss me and be clingy then won't let me sleep in our bed." 

"Mate, you need to get out of there." 

"I guess,"I sigh.

"But what all happened while she's been away?"

"Well, I got kissed by two different men and both of them-"

"What?" He exclaims.

"Yeah, yeah, I know,"I groan.

"Who were they? I hope one was that artist you love so much."

"I do not love him," I refute.

"Did he kiss you?"

"Yes! Yes, he did. Today. Not too long ago."

"How did that go?"

"Good," I grin to myself.

"Just good?"

"Do you want to know what his mouth tastes like?" I tease.

"Not really. Who was the other one?"

"My neighbor, Alex. I didn't enjoy that one much, but it wasn't a forced thing."

"How did you get with two guys in, what, a week?"

"It's just my impeccable beauty and charm, Hewlett."

"My mistake," he chuckles. I've missed him.

"I had a panic attack after that one. I think that's what it was, but I drank a lot. Then Graham came over."

"That's the artist one, right?"

"Yes. We ate Chinese food and watched a scary movie, it was nice."

"It sounds like he likes you."

"How? That's just like...hanging out."

"For you two, maybe. To everyone else that sounds like a date. "

"No, it isn't like that. He's not over his ex yet and I'm still with Justine. There's no way he likes me enough to _date_ me."

"You guys meet up once a week just to see each other. That sounds like dating."

"It's not," I groan. "You know I couldn't do that to Justine."

"Consciously."

"Fuck off," I huff, turning to lean my back against the kitchen wall.

"Listen, denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

"I'm not in denial, Jamie. We're friends, and friends spend time together. It isn't like-"

"You don't spend time with me. What am I, then?"

"You're my best friend," I sigh, "I'm supposed to hate you."

"Friends don't kiss each other, either."

"Hey, I've kissed you _and_ Dave! Plus, that's the only time he's ever kissed me. "

"My point still stands. The art boy likes you and you're wasting time with someone who doesn't."

I can always rely on him to be blunt.

"Who is this Alex fella?" He asks.

"He's my neighbor. He's attractive but annoying as hell. I feel bad for him."

"Why?"

"His mum is ancient and he lives with her. Kind of as a caregiver. Selfless, but he never gets time alone. He likes guys but I think he's afraid to."

"Why'd he kiss you?"

"I don't know. He was telling me he fancies Bowie-"

"We all do."

"I know. But then he kissed me and I made him leave. I'm afraid to run into him because then I'll have to talk to him about it."

"That's understandable. What are you going to do about this little love triangle, Damon?"

"I think I'm going to leave Justine, for real."

"You've been saying that since she started seeing him."

"I know, but I'm really going to now. I'm not mad at her for all of this, she just doesn't love me anymore. And that's okay. I don't want to hold her back."

He sighs deeply.

"Well, I guess I'll be here when it happens. Don't be afraid to call me or come over when you need something, mate. I'll see you later."

"Thanks. Bye." 

I hang up the phone and dramatically throw myself over the couch, letting out a deep exhale. My life is a soap opera. 

I turn on the TV to distract myself from thinking about anything. An American sitcom plays, and all I can think of is Graham and our shared disdain for these parts of American culture.

My ears perk up at the sound of the front door unlocking. I keep my eyes glued to the television, dreading what's to come next.

"Damon?"


	11. Chapter 11

  
"Hi," I greet shakily. 

"Don't seem so excited to see me," she presses a kiss to my temple and lays her body next to mine. All of the air in the room is sucked up and I'm suffocated with her infidelity and Andrew's cologne. 

"I am," I lie, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her. "I missed you a lot. A-and I'm really sorry for the other night. I don't like upsetting you." 

"Mhm," she sighs, "I just wish I actually felt like I have someone to come home to in the evenings. If you hate upsetting me then stop doing it. " 

"Sorry," I repeat. She lays her head on my shoulder. 

"Just watch what you say to me. I hate when you're disrespectful and you know that."

"I'm sorry," I say again. She ignores me.

"What's on?"

"I don't really know. I'm more or less mindlessly channel surfing."

"That's always good fun," she jokes. 

I keep imagining her face when I tell her I know about Andrew and that she can't live here anymore. I need to tell her soon or I will lose my chance.

"Justine-"

"Was Graham over while I was away?"

"Uh," I clear my throat, trying to decide whether or not to lie. "Yeah, but only for a little. I didn't see him much."

Yes, a half-truth.

"Is he still moping about that girl?"

"He was with her for seven years. I understand him entirely. Wouldn't you be upset if we split after this long?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's been _months_."

"Not even four."

"Right. I just think he's kind of pathetic."

I would love to know how she sees me. I want to defend him but I dont want to lose my chance to talk to her.

She lays her head on my shoulder and holds my hand. I smile to myself, squeezing her hand. She hums and leaves gentle kisses on along my jawline. I allow myself to melt into her, my mind distracted from everything else.

I clear my throat and pull away, looking down at her. She looks at my confused as I scoot farther from her. I pull one knee to my chest and look her in the face.

"I need to talk to you. A-about something serious."

She looks confused.

"What's up?" She tucks her hair hair behind her ear.

"Um," I bite at my inner bottom lip. "I'm sorry," I mumble.

"What?"

I take a deep breath and look away from her. Shit. I can't do this.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Damon, what's-"

"Do you remember our first date?"

"Yeah," she grins.

" It was at the grille on campus, by your flat." She nods. I can't keep eye contact with her. "We shared chips and got ice cream after. We did that a lot. "

"I know."

"And then, a few months later, there was that night at Hogg's. The night I realized I loved you. I told you when we left and were walking to your car. You told me to fuck off and I fell in love even more." I try and look at her to see how she's feeling. She only seems confused, but content. Reminiscing. "I fell in love with you over and over again, every second I spent with you.

"We used to go to the cinemas with our friends every Saturday and make the workers' lives hell. And we used to watch the sunrise together at parties just because we wanted to be close.

"I genuinely believed that you were the only one for me, and me for you. You were the only person I'd ever truly loved. I wanted nothing but to be by your side through thick and thin.

"So I asked you to be my wife. I knew you'd say yes, because we were so infatuated with one another. We'd seen everything together; my dad's funeral, my mum's wedding, the rise and fall of my band, we'd done every drug under the sun together. I couldn't ever see my life without you. We learned to love every single part of each other."

She's holding my hand in her lap now. She watches me with sad eyes and a frown.

"And those were the best times of my life. I never wanted it to end. I was living so blissfully oblivious to everything else but you and our little group of friends. You and drugs were the only thing that mattered to me.

"On our wedding night, I told my mum that I was the happiest I had ever been. Why wouldn't I be? I was to marry the woman I loved with every fiber of my being. I'd be with her until the ground took us under," I squeeze her hand, grinning at her. I've hardly ever seen her this quiet. "Until we'd become star dust. "

I take a deep breath and blink away tears. Her expression is swallowed by guilt. I'm going to throw up.

"You introduced me to all of your fun new work friends," I say, my voice hoarse. "Socialites with unfaithful husbands who normally wouldn't give you the time of day. They changed you," I stare at her for a long moment, biting my cheek to keep from crying. I can't crumble in front of her.

"You had me shake hands with this man whom I'd heard loads about. But I'd never met him. He was lovely. Friendly, handsome, _confident._ A true gentleman. He was everything I ever wanted to be, and I hated him for it. I could never be like him. But I could only see you. Nothing but you. My wife. A-and you looked so beautiful that night. All decked out in white and glitter. I remember the way you glowed under the summetime moonlight so vividly," I sigh, reminiscing. 

"But then I saw the way you looked at him. Like he was all that mattered to you in that moment. I knew I'd lost you."

"Damon-"

"But I ignored it. For about two years. I pretended everything was perfect. That you really did have two-to-three late nights at the office a week. That you really did go to all of those conferences or to Barbados with your friends- even though you never took photos. You became so distant. You became just like them. I stopped feeling like I could be myself around you because nothing was ever good enough. I never wore the right things, read the right books, watched the right movies, or listened to the right music. I was never enough. 

"But then I told you I knew about him. You denied it, then accused me, then you admitted to it and told me it would never happen again. You kissed me like you were sorry, but six months later you started disappearing again.

"I've been ignoring it. But I can't anymore, Justine," my voice cracks. "I can't keep pretending nothing's wrong. It's killing me."

I watch her again for another moment. Tears brim her eyes and her body is tense the way it does when she's going to cry. I pull my hand to my chest, away from her.

"I-I brought you flowers and soup one day, to surprise you at work. I asked the secretary for you and she told me you were in his office and said she 'wouldn't go in there.' She didn't even know who I was. So I trashed them and went to Hogg's to cry to Allen about you for the umpteenth time. That's when he told me to leave you."

"Damon, I didn't know that."

"Because you were with him," I say calmly. "But I ignored it."

"I'm sorry-"

"I couldn't leave you, Justine. Because I loved you more than anything, and I thought it was just a phase you were going through or you were mad at me for something. I never thought that you just didn't want me anymore.

"And, finally, I just stopped feeling. I use my skin as an ashtray to make sure I can still feel anything at all. I'm so lonely these days that I forget how people talk to each other. I leave the house for work and to see my one friend, and I have to _force_ myself to do that. I have almost nothing to eat most days and I cry myself to sleep the nights you aren't with me. I'm so cold and so empty. I'm not a person anymore." My words leave harsher than I intended them to.

She stares at me. I watch her for a moment, examining every emotion that flashes in her brown eyes.

"I didn't know that."

"I know," I sigh. "Because you're not around anymore. And when you started coming home again, four months ago, I thought I had you back. I had my wife back. I could hold her and sing songs to her and stay in my underwear with her all day because we didn't have anywhere else to go. But your love was so empty. I tried so hard to give you everything I had but you never gave it back."

The sadness that enveloped me is becoming anger, and I am cold. I have to stay cold.

"And I know he is here when I'm not. I can't do it. I think I will kill myself if I continue to live like this any longer."

She's crying now. It's like I've been shot. Excruciating pain in my chest and guilt eating away at my organs.

"I'm sorry,"she sobs.

"Me too."

"Is this about Graham?"

"No," I scoff, "this is about you and me. He has nothing to do with this. I feel nothing for him outside of a friendship. "

"He-"

"Stop. This isn't about him. Don't you dare bring him into this."

 _No_ _t now._ I tell myself as my eyes well up with tears. _Not. Now._

"I love you," I tell her quietly. "That's why you need to leave. You aren't happy with me. You don't love me. I want you to be happy, I want you to be with someone you love. It isn't me and I can't change that. "

She's taken aback and her cries stop.

"Damon, I never said you don't make me happy."

"Maybe not verbally. But you've been with another man for years, and that tells me everything."

"Are you happy with me?"

I don't say anything for a moment. I look away from her, thinking.

I am not happy at all. I only have spurts of sunshine when I'm with Graham, but I won't tell her that.

"No. I told myself I was for a long time, but the truth is that I'm not."

"Do you really love me?"

"More than you'll ever know."

"Thank you," she says after a while of sitting in silence.

"For what, Justine?"

"For your years, I guess. I wasted them and took advantage of you and I knew I was doing it the whole time. It was destroying me. " she sniffles.

"Then why did you keep doing it?"

"I don't know. You do stupid things when you love someone."

"I know."

"Thank you."

"Thank you for listening to me."

I would thank her for her time but I never had it.

"Yeah," she croaks. I open my arms and she melts into my body. Her tears soak my shirt and I let mine roll. I can't let her see them; I can't let her know she made me cry.

"You deserve so much love, Damon."

"I wish I could say I agreed."

"I want you to be happy, " she sits back and wipes her eyes.

I don't know if that's manipulation or the truth. She's a damn good liar.

"I will be," I sigh. "I will be."

"Did you find someone new?"

"No," I lie.

She nods.

"I hope whoever you find loves you the way you deserve it. I didn't deserve it. I took you for granted."

And used, manipulated, backstabbed, abused, and cheated on me.

"Thank you."

I let her cry into my chest, my fingers running up and down her spine.

It hurts more than I thought it would. But it isn't the pain I imagined. I thought she would yell and scream and throw things. I was afraid she would hurt me, if I'm honest.

"I love you," she tells me.

"Thank you."

She sits up, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she sniffles.

I just nod. I don't want to appear cold, but if I break it would allow her to take control again.

"Do you want to find someone?"

"Yeah, eventually. But I'm having a hard time believing anyone would want me."

"Maybe I can find you someone," she sadly chuckles. That's something we've had in common: trying to laugh in dark moments to cope.

"Oh, oh no it's okay, I'm okay."

_Your friends are terrible, Justine._

"You don't really know anyone but Jamie, Dave, and Graham."

"I know Alex from down the hall, too."

"Since when?"

"This week. He was Graham's roommate in school."

"Oh. I've always thought he was a bit of a wanker."

"Me too,"I chuckle. "He's actually pretty cool, he's just aggressive, I guess."

"I'm surprised. I doubt any of them know any girl nice enough for you," she laughs, "especially not Jamie. He's got to learn that a pub is no place to find something long-lasting. "

"He doesn't really want to settle down," I pull my knee back up to my chest. "Besides, I don't need anything right now. If I date anyone, the person I'd want wouldn't necessarily want me back."

"Is it Graham?"

Goddammit.

I nod with a half smile.

"Tell me about him."

"Uh," I shake my head, " it doesn't matter."

"Please?"

"I can't believe you already want me to move on," I laugh. 

"Closure maybe," she shrugs, "Even if I am with Andy, you're still a huge part of my life and I want you to be happy. You're happy with Graham and I know it. "

Bullshit. Bull. Shit. She doesn't want me to be happy, or else she wouldn't have cheated on me for so long. She would have just left me instead.

"Is that why you hate him so much?"

"I don't hate him. I'm just...jealous of him, I guess."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah. I see the way you are with him. You're much more alive around him. There's color in your cheeks when he's here, a light in your eyes I haven't seen in a long time. I haven't seen the person he brings out of you in years."

"Oh, "I look down to my lap, smiling. My cheeks feel warm when I think about him.

"And I think it's bullshit that you think he wouldn't want you."

"What do you mean?"

"The way he looks at you and talks to you and how he gets all blushy when you laugh. You're like kids."

"Oh," I chuckle, "I-I didn't know that."

"It's obvious."

"I don't know," I sigh, "I don't know if I'm ready and I know he isn't."

"That doesn't mean you can't shag him,"she pokes at my arm.

"He _definitely_ isn't ready for that."

"Why? Almost everyone I know would shag you, even when you look like this," she motions to me. I haven't showered nor have I shaved.

"Thanks," I spit. "He's never been with a man before, I think it freaks him out a bit."

"Oh, whatever. He'll come around. "

"That isn't really what want from him. We're close, I'd want more from him than a shag."

"Alright," she huffs jokingly. She stares at me for a moment.

"You love him, don't you?"

"I do. So much," she sighs. I want to ask her about him, but I'm not ready to hear it.

"Go to him."

"Are you sure? After all that you told me, I'm kind of afraid to leave you alone. I care about you, you know."

"I'll be fine. I'll probably call Graham or Jamie to come get me and we'll have drinks. I've been kickin' for four years now, I think I'll be okay."

"Right. I can leave you his home number so you can phone me if you need anything. "

"Okay. Thanks."

She hugs me again and stands from her seat, patting down her pants.

"I'm sorry," she tells me at the door. "Again."

I nod, "thank you. I'm surprised you're okay with this," I look at her in the face, confused.

"I'm not really but I'm going to have to be."

"Yeah," I don't want to tell her I was afraid. That will set her off.

"I'll miss you."

No you won't. 

"I always miss you. It isn't either of our faults we grew apart."

"Right," she nods. She's going to cry again. She hugs me again, tight. I hold her there for a while. It's the last time.

"Bye," I tell her as she walks away. She doesn't look back when she goes.

And she's gone, just like that.

I did it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is nothing special, I just wanted to write somethin' soft. The next chapter may be that way too.

I haven't left my bed in two weeks. I haven't been able to. I can't stand to look at the place I used to share with the person I love, and I know she won't come back this time. It's eating me alive.

I've been smoking more than I used to. Mostly because it's something different than laying in bed. All of this being alone is driving me mad, and it's my fault.

I haven't really talked to anyone since that night. Alex called a couple of days ago and left a voice message. He said he wants to talk to me. Jamie left me one too, but just to let me know he loves me.

I called Graham the day after that all ensued to tell him that I was feeling ill and wouldn't be able to join him for our Thursday-night outing. He offered to come to take care of me, but I told him it was okay.

Last week I told him my mum wanted me to come down to celebrate her husband's birthday. That isn't total bullshit. It was really his birthday, I just didn't go. I'm even less ready for them to see me like this than I am for Graham.

I decide to leave my apartment at nearly ten-thirty. I pull on my boots and Graham's jumper (that's practically mine) and head out. I don't know where I'm going, but anywhere is better than here.

It's too late for me to run into Alex or his mum. I'm not in the mood to deal with all of that; I already hate myself enough. 

I stop on the opposite side of the road from Hogg's. All I can see is myself and Justine falling for each other. I don't want to talk to Allen. I want to keep avoiding him. The air around this place is suffocating.

I take a deep breath and continue walking. My feet take me down the streets of the city, down streets familiar and not. My ears are cold, the chilly springtime air blowing against me.

My mindless strolling through the city is reminiscent of the night I met Graham. Cold, alone. I had no one to go home to and an aching in my stomach. I had a sick longing to put myself out of my own misery.

I make my way along the sidewalks, kicking at rocks every now and again. The city sounds fill my eardrums, drowning out the sound in my head. I go until I'm faced with a familiar, obnoxiously red door.

Graham's front door.

There's a tattered welcome mat at my feet. Isabelle gave it to him, as well as a few herbs to put in his windowsill. Housewarming gifts. The porch light is on.

My knuckles wrap at the wood gently. I hope he didn't hear me and I can just go home. Instead, I hear him groan and the sound of the door unlocking. 

Before I can think, I throw my arms around him. He holds me close, closing the door behind us.

"Hey," his voice is sweet and warm, normal for Graham.

"I'm sorry for disappearing," I mumble.

"It's all good," he hums. I listen to his heartbeat, trying not to cry here right now. It's always calming to be like this with him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great."

"What brought you all this way? Did you walk?"

"I just missed you, mate," I state simply. "And I took the bus."

"Okay. What brought you here?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I sigh. "I just don't really want to be alone right now. "

"That's okay. I'm here," he holds me again, laying his head atop mine. I want him to kiss me; I want to feel electric again. I reach up and fiddle with the beads of his necklace. 

"Thank you," I mumble.

"Did you eat today?"

"Yes."

I haven't really, now that I think about it. I don't want to tell him no because I know he will lecture me. He means the lectures in the sweetest way possible, but that doesn't mean I want to hear it.

"Right. I'll make us some tea. You go sit down and find something to watch, alright?" He grins down at me, petting my hair down. I nod.

I sit myself down on his sofa and begin flicking through the channels. I already miss his warmth.

The world slips out of focus. The light from the television hits my eyes, but I don't know what's happening. I'm only snapped back to reality when Graham places my mug down in front of me.

"What are you watching?"

"I'm not," I look up at him, watching him as he sits. "I didn't realize I'd stopped clicking through stations. "

He puts his mug down next to him, looking back at me with a quizzical look.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine."

"Okay," he sounds unsure.

"Thank you," I tell him, laying my head on his shoulder. "I knew I'd be safe here."

"Safe?"

"Yeah, " I sigh. "Being alone was driving me mad."

"Why've you been alone? Where's Justine?"

I bite down on the inside of my lip, not looking at his face.

"I-I kicked her out."

"Oh! I-I'm sorry," he stammers. I can hear the surprise in his voice; he didn't think I'd do it. No one did.

"No, no don't say that, "I groan, hiding my face in my hands.

"Sorry, uh," he shifts in his seat, "how did it go?"

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"It might help. You can't-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright," he sighs, "do you want a distraction?"

"Please," I say desperately. More desperate than I want to let on.

"What can I do for you?"

I go to speak, but I don't know what words to use. I want to kiss him again; it's the only thing I've been able to think about. The way he held me; how he kissed me like he wanted me, not like he had to. How different it was from every moment I'd had with Justine in years. That, and the crushing grief of having nothing to hope for.

I look over at him. He waits patiently for me. That's one thing I like about him.

"Kiss me," I say quickly.

"What?"

"Please. I-I just want to _feel_ something."

He stares at me. He leans in slightly, hesitantly. I cut him off and kiss him deeply, cupping his face with one hand. His hands rest themselves on the small of my back.

He kisses me with the same passion he did last time. I pull myself into his lap and thread my fingers through his hair.

He pulls away and stares down at me. His breathes are heavy but a small smile forms on his lips.

"Sorry," I mumble. He shakes his head and kisses me again. I grin against his lips, leaving a few small kisses. He laughs and pulls me back into a deeper kiss.

"You don't have to be sorry," he moves his kisses to my jawline. They're gentle, soft as feathers.

"I didn't think you'd like kissing me," I sigh, my fingers twirling strands of his hair. It's gotten long- it's a nice look for him.

"Why's that?"

"No one would want to kiss someone who is wearing this much depression."

"I beg to differ, my love," he lays his face on my shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I've wanted to kiss you like that for so long," he peers up at me through his lashes, "I don't really care what you look like."

"I'm quite repulsive, Coxon."

"Maybe I like gross boys then," he teases.

"Ew. Kiss me again so I don't have to hear you talk." He laughs and obliges, no hesitation whatsoever.

I like the feeling of being so close to him. I can't tell if it's my heightened emotions or how beyond touch-starved I am, but the intimacy feels better than any drug. So we stay that way for a while, switching between teasing each other and sharing kisses. I've missed sharing space with someone else.

Eventually, I snuggle up to his side and allow myself to fall asleep there, his arms holding me tight.

I wake up a few hours later, looking up at Graham. He's an angel; his features delicate and complexion glowing in the soft light from the TV. I press a soft kiss to his neck, staring up at him. I'll never get enough of it.

He yawns and stretches his arms out. His tired eyes land on me and a small smile forms on his lips.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay," he yawns again.

"Let's go to your room. It's cold out here."

"Okay," he nods, though he's already nearly fallen asleep once more. I laugh and kiss his neck one more time.

"Come on."

"I'm comin'," he groans. I stand and head to his room, only before noticing he hasn't moved.

"Graham," I groan. "I need your warmth or I will freeze to death. Do you really want me to _die?_ "

"I'm comin'!" He groans in response. I laugh to myself and take myself into his room. I slip my trousers off and lay down, pulling his pillow into my arms.

"I may need that, you know."

"Come cuddle me."

"You're needy."

"No, I'm just cold. "

"Yeah yeah," he lays down next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist.

"Much better," I yawn, resting my head atop his. "Isn't it?"

"Mhm," he hums. I pull the blanket over us and allow my body to drift off into a deep sleep.

-

The clock reads eight-thirty-four when I wake up. My stomach aches and my head pounds, which usually only happens after a night of drinking. I groan and stretch my legs before looking up at Graham. I don't know what I did to be graced with such a person. He's the only person in my life I can say I know cares for me. Besides my mum, of course.

I lie there, holding my stomach in agony. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Then it hits me- I'm hungry. I'm never hungry.

I roll out of bed and into the kitchen, tripping on a pile of Graham's clothing before making it out of his room.

I open his fridge and stare into it for a while, my brain nearly forgetting to do its job. I stare blankly before remembering again that I'm apparently starving, according to the anguish I'm feeling. He has nothing in his fridge. 

I move to the cupboards, that also seem nearly empty. Dammit, Graham, would it kill you to shop? I don't want to wake him, but it's beginning to look like I don't have a choice.

"Graham," I say, shaking his shoulder gently.

"Hm."

"Graham, I'm going to die if you don't wake up right now."

"Sh, I don't want to."

"Do you want a dead body on your hands? Because you're going to in a matter of moments."

His eyes flutter open and focus on me.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm hungry."

"You're never hungry."

"I know, that's why the situation is so dire, dear. "

"Did you check the kitchen?"

"It's a wasteland."

"You're an adult, take my car."

"You got mad at me last time I asked to drive. "

"It's 'cause you're a bad driver. "

"Thanks."

"Mhm. Let me sleep now, please."

"Graham, " I groan. I hear his stomach rumble and I give him a smirk. He sighs and throws the covers off of himself.

"Fine, we'll go out, but you owe me something."

"Thank you," I hum, kissing his cheek.

-

"Thanks again," I tell him from the mirror as I attempt to fix the mess living on my head I call hair. "You're the only person I wanted to come to."

"Really?" He asks, pulling on his socks.

"Yeah. Alex and Jamie tried to get ahold of me, but I only wanted you."

He doesn't say anything for a second, so I look back at him. He's grinning at his lap, but I don't think he sees me looking.

"I'm just glad you were home."

"I'm never not home."

"With my luck, I would've come at the one time you weren't home."

"Yeah," he chuckles. "Y-you look nice."

I smile to myself at the sound of his voice. I love it when he gets all flustered.

"Thank you," I hum, walking over to him. 

"You can just keep all my jumpers, they're cuter on you."

"Bullshit," I tease, brushing his hair behind his ear.

"Just let me flirt with you."

"Who are you?" I laugh. He furrows his brows. "The Graham I met some five months ago would never flirt with me. Believe me, I tried."

"I dunno," he shrugs. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid to say things to you. "

"You were afraid of me?"

"No, not really afraid, per se. But I wasn't comfortable with you yet. I am now. I know you. But introduce me to a single one of your friends and I will be sick on their shoes."

"You can be sick on Jamie's shoes," I chuckle. "Fuckin' wanker deserves it."

"Isn't he your best friend?"

"Yeah," I shrug. He laughs. 

"He better hope we never meet. "

"That's rather threatening, Gra."

"It's a defense mechanism."

I laugh and kiss him gently, causing him to let out a little gasp. I look up at him.

"Sorry."

"No, you just shocked me."

"How?" I laugh.

"Not used to being able to kiss you. "

"Honestly, I wish you'd kissed me months ago. If I knew that this is what intimacy was like," I pause, gazing down to my feet, "I would have left years ago."

"Christ, Damon."

"What?"

"That's really sad."

"I'm really sad, Leslie. I am also absolutely ravenous, so I'd love it if we left."

"Leslie?"

-  
"You never told me what happened," Graham tells me over breakfast.

"I made her cry, "I say simply.

"Good?"

"I don't know. It's a huge mix of emotions. "

"I'm still proud of you. What did you say to her?"

"Well, " I lean back in my seat after sipping my coffee. "I told her everything I loved about her. All of my favorite memories of her. Then I told her about the exact moment I knew she wasn't mine anymore. I showed her what she'd done to me."

"You're evil," he jokes. 

"I know, " I smile sadly. "I felt like shit afterward. But she hurt me so badly that it's hard to care anymore." I glance up at him before sinking back into my chair further. "I'm so fucking stupid."

I truly hate myself for the way it all played out.

"No, Damon, she-"

"I know, I know. She cheated on me and she manipulated me and she constantly made me feel like shit. I know. I chose to stay."

He sighs, closing his eyes and looking up to the ceiling.

"I chose to ignore her affair. I chose to let her walk all over me. But I don't care anymore. She's gone and I hope she's realized what she's done and it hurts."

He snaps back, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"That's just," he pauses, "no-not a very _you_ thing to say, especially not about her."

"I thought a lot when I wasn't crying or sleeping."

"Yeah?"

"I just realized how stupid I am for letting it all happen. Not seeing that it was hurting me. I told her that I'm a shell of a human being," I choke out, "a-and that was the first time I realized it."

"What did she say?"

"That she didn't know and she was sorry."

"I'm proud of you, " he tells me again. "I told you you're strong."

"I actually feel like I did something. It's nice, even if it was selfish of me."

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?"

Pride. Maybe some cowardice.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You never bother me."

"Sappy," I tease.

"For the love of God, Damon, just let me flirt with you."

He says that just loud enough for the two of us to hear.

"Maybe I'm just doing it back," I grin smugly.

"Right," he laughs. "Well, still, I'm proud of you. You're a badass."

"Hm, perhaps. "

He smiles at me.

"What do you want to do today?"

"Mm, I don't know," I hum. "Maybe we could try and watch a movie or something. Or just snog on the sofa. "

"Damon, " he warns. I sit up, confused. 

"What?"

"There are people here, don't be so loud about it."

"So what? It's not like anyone cares anymore."

"Plenty of people do. Just like how a vast majority of people know racism is bad but racists still exist. We don't know who does and doesn't care, and I'm not in the mood to get jumped."

"You worry too much," I huff, rolling my eyes.

"You worry too little."

I furrow my brows at him, watching him as he finishes his coffee.

"How about we go to a thrift shop? There's a cute one nearby, it's by a florist and a bookshop," I suggest.

"Probably. "

"Maybe we can get some plants to lighten up your flat. It's kind of bland."

"Hey!" He protests. I laugh at him. "What florist shop is it?"

"Wanna say it's called Valerie's, somethin' like that." I pull my knee to my chest, biting at my thumb nail.

"I don't want to go there," he says quickly and bluntly.

"Why?"

He sighs and gazes at the table.

"Isabelle works there. I don't want to see her again."

"Oh, that's okay, Gra. We can go to other places."

"Thinking about it, staying home sounds lovely. Maybe I can paint you?"

I grin. That's the exact thing I want to do. Maybe he'll kiss me again.

-  
I throw myself onto the couch, sighing heavily.

"What?" He laughs as he walks to me.

"Nothin'," I grin. He motions for me to move then sits down next to me. My body sinks into his.

"Thanks for breakfast," he yawns, "I want to go back to sleep."

"Of course, Gra." He rests his head on mine and I can hear him breathe. It's become such a calming sensation to listen to his breathing, I still don't know why. He always makes me feel better.

"We can nap later," I press a soft kiss to his neck, then a few more along the collar of his shirt. I hear him chuckle.

"You're kind of needy."

"I'm just lonely."

"Touche, I suppose," he smiles a lazy smile. I leave more small kisses along his jawline; nothing too much. His fingertips lazily graze my back under my jumper, leaving goosebumps. 

I stop for a moment to rest my head on his chest, listening again to the soft rhythm of his lungs. I close my eyes, focusing on the sound there and the delicateness of his skin against mine.

I don't know what I've done to deserve Graham in my life. He doesn't think he's anything special at all, but he is the best person in my life by a million miles. Our relationship is more than a friendship, but I don't know what it is. He protects me and I try my best for him.

Our relationship reminds me of the way Jamie and I were before I got serious with Justine. We were never romantic- or even sexual- but I knew that if I needed someone to hold or to be held by-- I could go to Jamie. Justine didn't like that I was so close with him.

He would play with my hair, we'd fall asleep together, all of those sorts of things. Much like what I have with Graham. But I feel something different around Graham that I don't think I've felt in years, if ever at all. I can't place it. Whatever it is, I know it's reciprocated.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?" He asks.

"Did I make it too obvious?"

"Mm, no," he grins, "not at all."

I hum and reposition myself to be in his lap, facing him. He grips my hips, pulling me closer and causing me to laugh. He grins again and kisses me, moving his hands from my hips in order to wrap his arms around my torso.

"Damon," Graham hums as I move down to his jawline to leave a few open-mouth kisses.

"Hm?"

"Look at me." He cups my face gently, his thumb resting on my bottom lip. Our eyes meet and a soft pink flushes over his face. I can feel my heart beating in my chest.

"What?" I grin. He shakes his head and kisses my forehead before laying back in his seat.

"Hey, no, tell me," I insist, poking at his chest.

"Nothing."

"Graham," I groan. "You can't just make me all giddy like that and not tell me."

He grins, that baby-pink blush filling his cheeks once more.

"I-I just...just think you're cute," he stammers. I smile at him and peck his lips gently. I can't believe he thinks I'm cute, especially when I look like this.

"I'm gonna call bullshit," I protest.

"Why? That's what I was going to say, I promise."

"No, I believe that. I don't think I'm cute."

"No one really thinks they are."

"But most people are gross. Enter: me."

"You aren't gross."

"Whatever. My hair's all shaggy and my face is all stubbly and-"

"I think it's cute."

I scrunch up my face and shake my head. He chuckles and grabs my hand.

"I'm not the only one, you know."

"What?"

"Alex told me this week that he's got a big crush on you."

Oh, God. I don't want to deal with that. Someone crushing on me is the last thing I need right now.

"Does he?" I groan.

"I take it you love him."

"He's annoying. "

"He isn't really, you just don't give him the time of day."

"I did once and I enjoyed it. Until he kissed me."

"I kiss you," he huffs. He's got a point- but he's different. I want to kiss Graham.

"That isn't fair. I kiss you 'cause I like to kiss you."

"Mhm," he smiles, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing it gently. I bite down on my lip, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I hope you like snogging me too, this would be rather awkward if not."

"I do."

"Does it feel good to have that power over Alex?"

"What power?"

"I'm not sitting in his lap and leaving lovebites on him, am I?"

"You're leaving lovebites? Damon, I've got work tomorrow-"

"Relax, I didn't. I was kidding."

"Hey," he pouts.

"Sorry," I kiss his pout, making him laugh. "When did you talk to Alex?"

"He called me. I don't know how he got my number."

"Phone numbers aren't hard to find, dear."

"I only answered because he called three times. I thought he was a serial killer."

"You watch too many movies."

"You trust too many people."

"I like people," I shrug. "I just forget they exist then I feel bad about it."

"You really are somethin' else," he laughs. "I don't get how you like people. "

"They're interesting. Everyone is so different, especially in big cities like this. I love talking." I lay my head on his shoulder after slipping off his lap.

"I think people are interesting too," he looks down at me, "I'd just rather not talk to them."

"That's valid. But you learn so much when you watch them lie or when they think no one sees them do a stupid thing."

"Isabelle liked people-watching. At the shops and the park. I hated it. People are judgy and awful."

"That's true," I sigh. "But they're nice to cuddle, too. If you find the right one."

"I can agree with that. Especially when they're smaller than you so you can hold them tight and keep them warm and safe," he presses a kiss to my temple, his hand still gripping mine. I feel my face rush warm. "And they like to wear your clothes and pay for your breakfast. "

I smile at him before kissing him gently. Kissing him makes me forget everything else. I don't think about Justine when his lips are on mine. I don't feel like I'm suffocating. He's refreshing. Everything feels new again. I'm glad he's the one I decided to come to. 

I'm safe here and I never want to leave.


	13. Chapter 13

G

Being around Damon is nice. He keeps me occupied, for sure. I don't know how he can say so much in so little time.

He's been spending a lot of time at my flat lately. He did lose his job and hasn't really showed interest in getting a new one. He's been putting off getting a roommate, saying his inheritance can pay the rent for another month.

I've been working more and I hate to admit it; but I think it's because of Damon. I feel what could be love for him but I'm exhausted from the routine he's fallen into. It's heartbreaking to watch.

I got a call this afternoon from a number I know by heart. I've been putting off listening to the messages, afraid of what Isabelle has to say to me. I don't want her excuses nor her attitude.

Why is it always when I'm at work?

Finally, at nearly closing time, she calls again.

"Hello?" I sigh.

"Graham? Hi. I've been trying to get ahold of you."

"I know, I'm sorry. I've been busy."

"Oh, that's okay. I was just," she pauses and I can picture her thinking face. It makes me smile a bit. "I wanted to see you again and apologize for the way I acted last time."

"Um," I stop the mindless doodling I'd been doing on my notepad. "When?"

"I was thinking tonight or tomorrow."

"I can't," I lay my pen down and lean my face into the palm of my hand. "I have plans."

"Plans?" She asks, almost sounding surprised. 

"I have friends, Isabelle."

"It's funny that you got them as soon as we split."

I can count on her for bluntness. I didn't mean for it to happen that way, but she won't see it. She wasn't holding me back from socialization, I just didn't ever seek it out. I still don't, but Damon insists.

He's making me dinner tonight and wants to go out with Jamie and 'some bird he's been seeing,' tomorrow night.

"Sorry," is all that I can think to say.

"It's fine. I'd just love to see you again. I miss you. I-I really feel like I made a mistake. " I hear her voice shake, the way it did when she was holding back from crying.

I can't tell her that I've moved on. I want to, to let her down easy, but I don't think I've _really_ moved on. I know that I still have love for her.

I can't seem to respond to her. I try to, but no words escape.

"I'm sorry," I say again.

"No," she sighs, "you don't have to be. It's me that should be sorry. I let you go at a vulnerable time in your life. You're still not independent, but that isn't really your fault. I should still be taking care of you."

Everytime she brings it up it stabs me through the heart. She's always kept me down, but I didn't know what was happening. She likes to tell me I need her.

"I'm fine."

"I worry about you, a lot. You're alone so much. "

"I'm fine," I repeat. I'm not alone. I have Damon. When he's not around, I still feel fine. I feel like I can live. "Please don't press on about it anymore."

"Sorry," she sighs, "I just want you to let me know if you need me. If you start getting bad again-" 

"Stop it."

"Graham, I told you, I'm afraid-"

"There's no reason to be. I'm fine. "

I want to hang up on her, but I'm not ready for the repercussions of that. I glance over at the clock.

_6:34_

"I need to go. "

"Right, um, call me tomorrow, alright? I still want to make plans."

"Right," I sigh. "Bye."

"Bye. I love you."

I hang up quickly, trying to pretend I didn't hear her. I lie my face on my desk, feeling the cool wood pressing against my skin.

I can't wait to see Damon.

\--

"Took you long enough," he laughs once his front door closes behind me.

"I had a call right as I was meant to leave." I pull him into my arms, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

"Hm, it's okay. I missed you today. "

It's weird to think he would.

"Really?" I ask, kissing his head once more.

"Yeah. I got a little sad, actually. Being here is sad, but being here alone is worse. "

I hum and hold him tighter.

"I'm here now." He nods and keeps his head on my chest. I noticed he likes to rest there; especially when we've been apart for a while. We usually aren't apart for more than a day or two, and even then he calls me before he goes to sleep. He's kind of lonely.

"What did you do today?" I ask when we part.

"Nothing really, " he sighs. "I took a shower then a nap. Justine came over again to pick some more things up. She's living with him."

"Was it weird?"

"Yeah, but it felt strangely fine. She had a light in her eyes I haven't seen in a long time. I know we're going to be okay," he purses his lips into a bitter smile.

"It makes sense," I shrug. "What else happened?"

"Nothing at all. I really, truly, did nothing. "

"That sounds lovely. "

"It was," he grins. "I just kinda," he pauses, playing with his fingers. "I was just wishing you were here all day long."

I laugh. He's so cheesy--it's adorable.

"Aww," I pull him in again, rocking back and forth. He laughs and tightens our embrace. It reminds me of the first one we shared; he hugged me so tight that it broke my heart, because I knew it'd been so long since he'd been held.

"Did you eat today?" I ask, looking down at him.

"Yeah, actually," he hums, nuzzling his face to my neck. "I had a scone with jam this morning, and I've been snacking all day."

I press a kiss to his forehead and gently rub his back. I worry about him, but I'm not going to make a big deal out of it. I understand his struggle more than he knows.

"That's good. What are we doing tonight?"

"I was just going to throw some dinner together and maybe we can just...hang out," he shrugs.

What he means is that he'll make the food, we'll start eating, forget we're eating, then snog for the rest of the night.

"That sounds like a plan," I grin. "I'm going to change, alright?"

"Mhm, I'll start cookin'." He pecks my lips and heads to the kitchen. I go to his bedroom, where a collection of my clothing has compiled.

I feel like I'm on cloud nine when I'm with Damon. My mood changes when he smiles at me or leaves gentle kisses on my neck or chest. I feel light, happy. Nothing can ruin it; even when he's getting on my nerves, I'd rather be with him than without.

"Are those mine?" He furrows his brows at me from the kitchen. I look down, tugging at the seem of my joggers.

"These? No, I think they're mine."

"Huh," he hums, stirring our food.

"What's for dinner?" I slide onto a barstool, watching him over the counter.

"Macaroni. It's all I have. I need to go shopping."

"Maybe we can make a date out of it tomorrow."

He hums in response. My conversation with Isabelle earlier comes into my head.

"Damon," I sigh, propping my head up on my hand. He raises his eyebrows. "Let's leave."

"You just got here."

"No, I mean like," I pause, pursing my lips together, " elsewhere. Run away, I guess."

"Why?" He laughs.

"I'm tired of people. I don't want to deal with them anymore."

"You've hated dealing with people since the womb, Gra." His laugh causes my heart to pound out of my chest, my stomach to erupt in butterflies. "I don't think running away will help."

"I know, but that doesn't mean we can't run away."

"What if there's people where we go?"

"Let me have my dream, Damon."

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the sides and his funny teeth peeking out.

"Where could we go?" I watch as he turns to the sink to drain the noodles.

"Not sure yet. Maybe a cottage in the forest somewhere in Scotland or Germany. Or we could move to Greece. A beach house in Morocco."

"Mmh, that all sounds lovely," he slides me my dish. "But right now, I've got a divorce to pay for and you've got a once-in-a-lifetime job that you love. We can't just up and leave."

"Sure we can. Flee the country. No one will notice. You don't have to pay for a divorce in the UK if you've run off to South Africa and changed your name. And I'd rather paint on our balcony while you sing to me than work in an office."

"Don't tempt me," he laughs, rolling his eyes. "Besides, if the point is to get away from people, why are you taking me?"

"Because you cook for me. Why else?"

"Mm, no, that's a good reason," he nods as he takes a bite of his food. "What brought all of this up? Are you running from the police again?"

"The mafia this time," I smirk, but my gaze falls to the food in front of me. "Isabelle called me today."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I sigh. "She wanted to meet up with me again, but I don't want to."

"Then yeah, let's run away," he grins.

I laugh sadly, "she said she misses me. She feels like she made a mistake."

"She did make a mistake, but she deserves to deal with that. Did you tell her you've got someone you're kind of seeing?"

We haven't had _that_ conversation yet. I don't think either of us are fit to have a committed thing yet.

"No. She got upset when I told her I had friends, she'd die if I ever said that to her."

"Then tell her that you're living a fruitful life of drugs and sugar daddies," he laughs. "Tell her about all of the _men_ you're with; she'll love that."

"I don't want her to hate me."

"She'd probably hate me."

"That's beside the point. I don't want bad blood with her. "

"She hurt you. Anyone who made you feel the way she did dosen't deserve mercy."

"I could say the same about Justine."

"Yeah," he scoffs. "I still feel like a fucking idiot."

"I know," I sigh, "but all that's left now is healing. You know that."

"Yeah," he sighs. "Did you say you'd meet her?"

"No, I just told her I had plans tonight and tomorrow. Then I told her I had to go."

He nods, "good."

"I don't want to think about it anymore," I sigh.

"That's okay. I'm going to have a smoke, if you'd like to join me."

"Of course. "

\--

After we clean up and share our cigarette he puts a record on.

"Come here," he hums, holding his hand out. I grin and take it, letting him pull our bodies closer together.

His fingers lace with mine, his face resting on my shoulder. My free arm rests around his waist and our bodies sway to the music.

The house is dark; aside from the city lights seeping through the shades and the dim, fluorescent glow from the kitchen. The low murmur of the record player encapsulates us.

"I don't want you to let me go, " he murmurs into my ear, sending goosebumps down my spine. I feel my heart break.

"I'm here."

He moves his face from my shoulder to my chest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. His voice shakes as the words fall from his lips. I take in a deep breath and keep my hand rested on the small of his back, rubbing gently.

"You've got nothing to apologize for."

I expect him to put up a fight, but he doesn't. He nods against my chest, letting out a sigh. Our fingers interlock, our bodies still gently swaying to the music.

His blue eyes gaze up at me, the moonlight illuminating his pale skin. He's breathtaking. His expression is hard to read, per usual.

"I don't like making you see me this way so often."

I shake my head.

"It's okay. I really don't mind. You need someone."

I don't understand how his moods shift so quickly. One moment he's so bright and so cheery, but the next he's at a new rock bottom. I just want to know what's going on in that head of his.

I study him for a moment, watching the emotions as they cross his face. His eyes avoid mine, an uncertainty riddled in them. I want to cheer him up, even if it's only for the next few moments.

"You know," I start, grabbing his attention. "If you told me a year ago that I'd be slow dancing with a gorgeous boy in the dark, I'd think you were insane."

He blushes a soft pink, grinning up at me.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I never would have imagined myself in this situation. I don't think I ever want it to end."

He leans up and kisses me, pulling me closer. I gasp lightly before returning the kiss; the feeling is still so new to me.

"I still think you're full of shit," he laughs.

"Mm, I think you're wrong. You're beautiful. "

"Bullshit," he kisses me again, "not prettier than you."

"I'm pretty plain."

He moves his brief kisses down to my jaw. I close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, letting him do as he pleases.

"If _you're_ plain, I'd like to know what you consider beauty, my dear."

"I thought I'd made that clear."

"You're so sappy."

"We both know you like it."

"Yeah," he laughs. He moves down and leaves more tender, open-mouth kisses down my neck. I let out a low hum in response, causing him to laugh again.

"What are you laughing at?" I scoff.

"You," he giggles. "Me. Us. We're both so touch starved and desperate. It's so sad."

"There's only one way to remedy that, you know. " He laughs again, hiding his face in my chest. He melts into my body once more.

"What are you implying?" He asks a few moments later.

"Nothing in particular, " I say before he pulls my body closer for a breif kiss. He then returns to resting comfortably against my chest.

"My mum used to sing this to us," he tells me quietly. "It reminds me a lot of growing up and helping her in the kitchen."

"I should go and see her," he sighs a moment later.

"I think so."

"I miss her a lot. I'm a little bit worried about telling her about Justine."

"My mum about died when I told her about Isabelle. She'd already planned a lot for our wedding."

"That's what I'm afraid of. She spent a lot of money on mine and Justine's. Plus, she loves Justine."

"Well, I think she'll understand."

"Yeah?" He chuckles.

"Maybe we'll stop and see her on our way to Morocco."

"Maybe," he nods. I stop and stare down at him, grinning to myself as I take in all of his features. I know I talk about the way he looks far too often, but I can't help myself.

His eyes are closed, his long lashes falling onto his cheeks. His hair has gotten long again, all shaggy on his forehead and around his ears. I like to listen to his soft breaths and feel him as his body melts with mine.

I feel my stomach fill with butterflies again just at the sight of him. I lay my head on his, burying my face in his hair to lessen the chance of him seeing me so flustered.

"Graham?"

"Yeah?" My voice is hoarse from the nerves. He yawns.

"Wanna go lay in my bed? I rented a few movies for us to watch," he peers up at me.

"Yeah," I smile.

Damon likes to throw himself over his bed or the couch when we go to to lie down. I don't know if he knows he does it, but I find his drama extremely endearing.

"Graham, my love," he pats the space next to him, "come here before I freeze to death." I laugh and join him on the un-made disaster of a bed. I'm not sure when the last time I saw this room in great shape was.

"Would you rather a chick-flick or a scary movie?" He asks.

"Scary."

"Is it so I'll keep you safe from all the boogie-men and demons?" He stands once again and pulls a disc from his shelf.

"I just like scary movies. Blood and guts and stuff."

"I don't like the blood and guts," Damon shrugs. "I just like being a little bit spooked."

He sits back down with me, pulling himself into my lap. He isn't very subtle.

I laugh to myself when I hear him snoring before the movie even starts.

"Damon," I whisper, gently pushing his shoulder. "Damon, baby, don't go to sleep yet. "

"I'm not asleep," he slurs. "Just resting my eyes." He yawns and his breathing slows again, signifying that he'd absolutely fallen back to sleep. I glance at the clock on his bedside table, which only reads about nine o' clock.

I sigh in content, my fingers running gently through Damon's hair. I mute the television and listen to him breathe for a moment, the world around me completely irrelevant. He snores- it's cute.

I try not to let Isabelle sneak into my thoughts when I'm alone. When I'm with Damon- even if he's asleep- I don't think about her. But tonight, she does cross my mind.

I don't know if I'm over her entirely. There are still mornings where I wake up and I want nothing but to see her face next to me. Drink coffee on the back patio early in the morning and listen to the birds sing. I choose to ignore those longings.

I still don't understand why she doesn't want me anymore. I know it's because she doesn't want to deal with my poor mental health; I just wish I understood what changed in her. What I did that made her change on a dime.

I haven't let Damon see that side of me yet. I try and keep my house and myself clean and orderly and work as much as possible to not let it through in front of him. He's in need and I don't want to take that away from him.

I know I don't need her. I can live without her. I just wish I believed that. I'm only getting by without her. I was hoping to bring her back into my life when I met her that evening, but her behavior turned me off. But what if she really thinks she made a mistake and wants me back? Maybe she deserves it, like Damon said.

He deserves better love than he got.

I sniffle and wipe my eyes before gazing down at the sleeping boy. I feel a lump in my throat as I sit, taking everything in. My fingers dance in his hair, desperately trying to find something to stop me from crying. I don't want to wake him up.

"I'm okay," I whisper to myself. "I'm okay." I take a deep breath and focus on Damon. The feeling of his body against mine, the gentle huffs of breath leaving his lips, and his delicate grip on my hand.

His body jolts slightly when I give his hand a squeeze back.

"Sorry," I whisper, pulling my hand away.

"No," he yawns and grabs my hand again. A smile creeps across my face. He readjusts, peering up at me with tired eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I'm just tired. I didn't want to wake you up."

"Ah, I don't mind," he shrugs, rolling off onto his back next to me. His eyes close again, his hand still in mine. He pulls them to rest on his chest, directly over his heart; I watch him as he does so.

"Are you going back to sleep?" I ask before shutting off the television.

"No," he shakes his head. He dozes off again.

"Yeah, right." He jolts awake again.

"Sh," he hushes. He pulls our hands to his lips, lazily kissing each of my knuckles. I grin. "Now tell me why you're sad. "

"It's nothing."

"Don't bullshit me, Coxon."

I don't want him to worry. I don't want to let him worry.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," he sighs before leaving a few more kisses on my hand. He rests our hands on his chest again, letting out another deep exhale.

I am latching onto him the way I did to her. I'm terrified. I don't want whatever we have here to end the way it did with Isabelle.

"I promise I'm not meaning to fall asleep."

"You're okay. You've got a lot on your mind all the time, you need the rest, dear. "

A tired smile spreads across his face.

"I like it when you call me that."

"Yeah?" I turn onto my side to face him better.

"Yeah. And Baby." My heart stops and my stomach fills with butterflies; I didn't think he'd heard me. I pull him closer, resting my head atop his as he giggles tiredly. "Baby."   
\--  
To my surprise, Damon is asleep when I wake up. He never is. He's usually woken up and had a cup of coffee by now.

I turn onto my side, staring at him. My eyes focus on the alarm clock behind him for a moment, its arms reading 10:15. Half the day's gone away.

The phone rings in the other room. I look down at Damon, to see if it wakes him. It doesn't. 

I let it go to the answering machine; I only talk on the phone to Damon and when I absolutely have to. Plus, whoever it is is calling for Damon.

It rings again a moment later. A pit forms in my stomach and every anxious thought I've ever had floods my brain. I do not like phones.

After a third time, Damon finally wakes up.

"Christ," he groans, stretching his arms above his head. He looks up at me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Th-the phone has been ringing f-for a while."

"Why didn't you answer?"

"I-I didn't want to."

It stops. Damon furrows his brows at me, concerned. He pulls my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently.

"It's fine, you don't need to worry. I'll bet it's Alex's mum or something."

"Do you think she's hurt?"

"No, no," he chuckles. "She checks on me sometimes. She's persistent, but only when she decides it's time to be."

I nod. It rings again.

"God dammit."

He leaves the room, answering as politely as he can. Then I hear him curse.

"Why did you call me _four_ times, Jamie? You've about killed Graham."

I stand, stopping in the doorway to watch him. He looks over at me and rolls his eyes.

"Just come up, fuckhead. You have a key to my flat, anyway."

I laugh at him. I quite enjoy the profane way he speaks with Jamie. He hangs the phone back up, sighing heavily.

"Sorry," his arms wrap around my waist. " He's a little bit of an asshole."

"It's fine."

"Can I ask why you got freaked out?"

"I didn't," I say firmly. I haven't let the small parts of my anxiety like that shine through yet. I don't want him to think I'm some sort of crazy person who's afraid to talk on the phone. He just stares at me quizzically. 

"I just don't like talking on the phone. I watch so many scary movies that when someone calls four times it just...spooks me."

That's only half true.

"You're adorable."

I shake my head and lean down to kiss him, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there are mentions of abuse and homophobia in this chapter. It is nothing too extreme, but just thought I would let you know :)

G  
I like Jamie. I like him a lot.

He's loud and outgoing but not exhausting to be around, like most people like him and Damon. Damon used to wear me out, but we can see where I am now.

He took us and his girlfriend, Anna, around to different pubs and clubs in London. I'm still not sure how to get around since I haven't lived here all too long, so it was nice of him to drive. Damon claims he can drive, he just doesn't like to.

"Bullshit," Jamie laughs when the words leave Damon's mouth. I try not to laugh.

"I can drive!" Damon whines.

He has his head rested on my shoulder in the backseat. I appreciate that he only shows affection in the car or at home; he knows that I'm not comfortable being openly affectionate yet.

"Sure."

I laugh and Damon groans.

"You're supposed to be defending me," he pouts.

"Well, biking, walking, and taking public transit is better for the planet. Especially in a big city," Anna cuts in before I can. She's been doing that.

"Touche, I suppose."

I look down at Damon, who's twiddling his thumbs. Pressing a kiss to his temple, I whisper an apology into his ear. He squeezes my hand.

"You don't have to be, dear. We're just joking around."

I nod.

He smells like liquor and cigarettes; he hasn't in a while. Jamie's the only one who didn't drink since he knew he'd be driving.

Since we'd been drinking, Anna seemed to forget the concept of boundaries. At dinner, she ignored Jamie completely. Damon seemed to be the only one she was interested in.

I've been trying to ignore it.

By the time we get to Damon's flat, I'm exhausted of her. She's been talking for the better half of an hour about nothing but herself.

I watch from the kitchen as they talk to each other, Damon oblivious to all of her hints. It's kind of adorable. He turns on the TV.

"I'm sorry," Jamie laughs after pouring us both a shot.

"It's fine," I sniffle, pulling myself onto the counter. "He didn't pick up on my flirting for three months, I think he'll be fine."

"He's kind of dumb."

We both chuckle and take our shots. I glance over to see Damon half asleep on the couch and Anna playing with his hair.

"If anything, I think I'm sorry for you."

"She just gets this way when she drinks. I'm not worried. "

I nod and pour us another shot.

"I'm really glad he has you, Graham."

"Really?" I ask, scrunching up my face.

"Yeah. He needs someone like you. Plus, he really likes you."

"Oh," I look to my feet.

"I haven't seen him soberly happy in a long time. Since even before he was with Justine."

"Were they ever happy?"

"Yeah, just never sober," he laughs sadly.

I nod again, downing the shot I'd poured.

"You make him so happy, Graham. More than I think he lets on. "

"I hope so," I smile. "He deserves to be happy."

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"I do."

"Do you think you two will end up together? Like, for real?"

"Maybe, "I shrug, "neither of us are ready for a relationship. I think he's just happy that someone wants to spend time with him."

"You take good care of him."

I smile, shaking my head.

"I don't deserve him."

"Gra?" Damon's voice calls from the front room. I turn to look at him, only to see him with his arms wide open.

"I'll be back," I laugh, going to Damon.

"I missed you."

"I was just over there, Baby," I hum.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me down to him.

"I don't like her," he whispers, "I want to stay with you."

I glance to Anna, who's half asleep and falling out of her dress, then back to Damon. He grins and kisses me hard.

"Come to the kitchen with me, Baby. I'll keep you safe."

"Mhm," he nods.

I laugh and go to stand, but he pulls me back in.

"Baby," he giggles. "Only call me baby."

"Okay, Baby, let's go into the kitchen."

He laughs and stumbles to the kitchen.

"How is it that you got drunker?" Jamie teases.

"Shut up, I'm not drunk."

I just laugh at him and re-assume my spot on the counter. He rests between my legs, my head lies on top of his.

"I'm not _that_ drunk."

"Right," Jamie laughs. His gaze shifts to Anna. "We should get going."

"Alright, it was nice to see you, " Damon smiles, pulling Jamie into his arms. It's strange to see them be nice to each other.

"You too. Quit not calling me."

"I will, 'm sorry. I've been kinda sad."

"It's okay." He turns to me and holds out his hand. "It was nice to finally meet you, Graham."

"You too,"I nod, shaking his hand. "Do you need any help?"

"I don't think so. Not if we take the lift."

Damon wraps his arms around me once more as Jamie goes to collect Anna.

"She isn't always like that," Damon tells me quietly. I don't think he's as drunk as Jamie thinks he is.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think she'd been drinking all day."

"Makes sense. How many drinks did you have?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. "Some, I guess."

Jamie waves a goodbye, helping Anna out of the house. Damon follows, quickly locking the door.

"I missed him."

"He's great."

"I'm glad you like each other. He wasn't too fond of Justine. Guess I should have trusted him on that."

"I guess," I laugh. "Come here."

He grins and shuffles over to me, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I had fun," I tell him. He just nods and I feel him start to leave open mouth kisses down my neck. I smile to myself and wrap my arms around his waist. He fits so perfectly in my hands.

"Gra," he mumbles.

"Hm?"

He pulls away and looks up at me.

"You're beautiful."

I stare at him for a moment. The look in his eyes told me he meant it.

I'm not sure what to say to him.

"I mean it. I'm not waiting for you to stop me and tell me I'm even more beautiful or anything like that. I just want you to know that I think you're beautiful."

He stares back at me. All I can hear is his breath.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head, looking down. I kiss him quickly, holding him close and feeling his body melt into mine.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"I'm so grateful for you." He steps back and looks up to me, holding my hands tightly. "I feel like I only ever take from you. I don't think I'm giving enough in return and it's driving me mad. "

"Listen," I sigh, holding his hand. "Being around you is enough."

"Don't flatter me," he chuckles, sniffling.

"No, I mean it. I usually like to be alone, but I'm starting to hate being alone without you--if that makes sense. Having someone there makes things easier. Especially if that someone is you."

He grins at me. I can tell he's tired-- he's all touchy-feely and his eyes are bloodshot. The alcohol doesn't help.

His body falls into mine and I hold him tight. Everything in my body is telling me to tell him every single thing I feel for him-- but it's too soon.

"It's late," he yawns.

"Let me take you to bed."

"I wanna have a smoke first."

He pulls me by my hand to the back patio, and we cuddle up on the bench. He lights his cigarette and lets out a sigh.

"Thank you."

"What for, lovely?" I ask, taking the cigarette as he passes it to me.

"Just...being around I guess. Putting up with my drunk ass, willing to meet Jamie, dealing with Anna."

"Oh," I shrug, "none of that's an issue. I'm glad to be around you, like I said. I like you."

"Mhm," he nods, laying his head on my shoulder. "I love this time of year."

"Spring?"

"Yeah. I miss it back home, when everything was all fresh and I could see the stars. "

"I miss seeing all the stars too."

"Laying in freshly cut grass or on the trampoline, getting all cuddled up in blankets and stuff."

"Yeah," I grin, taking another puff off the cigarette. "Picking flowers for your mum."

"I love my mum," he laughs. "She'd love you. "

We both went quiet for a moment.

"Damon?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your dad?"

He takes in a deep breath.

"He was in an accident," he says coldly. "Ruined my mum for a while, same with my sister."

"How did it affect you?"

I watch him for a second. His gaze is focused on the city in front of him, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

"It didn't."

His facial expression and tone stay the same. His fingers gently roll the hem of his shirt. He takes a drag off the cigarette and hands it back to me.

"Did I ever tell you about my first boyfriend, Peter?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Well," he shifts to face me. "We shared a birthday. He was going away for his, so we decided to celebrate a few nights before. I'd stolen some wine and we'd been feeling each other up on the sofa in my bedroom. We were just being hormonal teenagers falling in love.

"I didn't know my parents would be home, since they weren't supposed to be. I thought I'd locked the door for good measure, but I hadn't. My dad came in and saw us together and proceeded to beat the shit out of me."

He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath.

"I'm just glad he made Peter leave before he hurt me. I couldn't live with myself if he'd seen that. My poor mother tried so hard to stop him, but he hit her, too. My sister came home and he shoved me down the stairs and told her to see what I'd done to myself by being a faggot.

"Then he left. He didn't come back for a couple of weeks. My mum pretended it never happened. "

"Damon-"

"It's fine," he sighs. "I'm better. I know that it came from a place of misery and ignorance. I still don't understand how a father could hurt his own child like that, but I've made my peace with it."

I want to hold him. I want to kiss him and tell him that he's strong and so loved. But I know how I'd feel if someone did that to me.

"How did he die?" I ask.

"He wanted to take me out to have a conversation about the situation. But he crashed on the way home."

"I'm sorry."

That's all I can say. He gives me that sad smile he always does when he's upset to show me that he's going to be okay.

"I know," he says, squeezing my hand. "I know."

"Do you still talk to Peter?"

"Yeah. He checks in every so often. He was the best man at my wedding."

"That's kind of ironic."

"I know. He introduced me to Justine, actually. Back when she was nice."

"He sounds nice."

"He is. A big sweetheart. We just decided it was best to split up after that, though I didn't tell him it happened until a while after he'd gotten home."

"I'm proud of you, you know."

"Thank you."

I pull him close and kiss his head.

"Now I need you to tell me a deep, dark secret."

I laugh, shaking my head.

"No, no."

"C'mon!"

"It's too late to compare scars."

"Are you kidding me? It's three a.m., perfect time to do so."

"I had an aggressively average childhood, followed by an average time at college, followed by an average adulthood."

"Bullshit. You've got battle scars, I know it."

"I don't really want to talk about it right now, Baby."

I know calling him that will make him soften up.

It makes me sad to think about how simple things like that make him so happy. I wonder how long it'd been since he was called a pet name or been touched by someone who meant it.

"Don't pull that," he whines. "I want to hear you talk."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, your voice is so pretty. It's soothing and sweet; like honey, almost."

"That's so gay, Damon," I laugh.

"You cannot tell me _anything_ about being gay. I may have more miles on me but Graham, my dear, you are so gay. You got excited when I bought you a houseplant."

"So did you!"

"You get all blushy and flustered when I call you Gra or kiss your cheeks."

"That's not fair."

"You call me baby more than you call me by my first name."

" 'C-cause you're my baby," I whine. The fatigue between us is enough to kill a man.

"That's gay!" He giggles

"You're gay!"

"I know. How could I not be when people like you exist?"

"Shut up."

He makes a kissy face at me. We both erupt into a fit of giggles.

"Now tell me a secret!"

 _I love you_.

I stare at him for a second, almost awaiting a response.

"Graham."

"I-I used to get drunk with Alex and steal things from Tesco."

"God," he rolls his eyes, "so did everyone else. Tell me something juicy."

"Alright, " I sigh. "I, uh, I didn't lose my virginity until I was twenty-two."

"Graham," he giggles, "that's not juicy, it's just sad."

"Stop saying juicy."

That makes him laugh harder.

"Was it to Isabelle?"

"Who else?"

"I don't know. I figured you two were always home, so you probably boned a lot."

"Boned?"

"Justine and I did, sometimes other people would join us. It was just a normal thing, until she stopped liking me."

That's a lot to unpack.

"You really do have a lot of miles on you."

"Hey!" He huffs, pulling another cigarette from the box. "I am a whore and I am proud of it." He lights it and takes a puff. "At least I'm faithful."

"When did you lose it?"

"It?" He laughs. "When I was fifteen, to a girl a couple years older than me."

"Fifteen?"

"Oh, baby," he rests his hand on my leg, rubbing gently. "You really haven't been around, have you?"

I sigh in defeat, trying to fight the embarrassment.

"No, I haven't."

"I'll have to show you around a bit, then. "

My breath hitches. He's never made a true sexual advance, so it must be the booze and fatigue speaking.

"I-I haven't been with a guy before, Damon, I-"

"It's okay. Like I said, I'll have to show you around. I'll help you. Would you want that?"

"Eventually, yes, but not tonight. "

"I'm too tired to do it now. I don't want to fall asleep on top of you."

"I don't want that either," I laugh.

"You can be on top when we do it, too. It'll be easier since you've been with girls before."

"Okay," I shrug. It amazes me that people like Damon exist. It also amazes me that someone like him would want to shag someone like me.

"We'll go slow, "he leans into me, "however you want. Whatever you want. I'm really easy going." 

I think he's trying to kill me. He slowly lays down in my lap, grinning up at me.

"What if I don't like it?"

"Then...Then we won't do it again. Until you want to. Sex should be comfy, and safe. You shouldn't feel pressured or uncomfy or unsure." His words began to slur together, then a yawn leaves his mouth.

I nod. I feel so pathetic being so inexperienced, but I know that-if anyone- Damon's safe to talk about it with.

I run my fingers through his hair, watching as he slowly drifts off to sleep. He continues to mumble things, trying to carry on the conversation.

"I am ready when you are," he says. I smile to myself. How did I get so lucky to have someone who cares about me this much?   
\--  
We wake up around noon today. I brought him in after an hour or so of listening to him talk to himself.

I got in the shower about 10 minutes ago. I haven't done anything, just stood and thought.

It's the twenty-third today. I was supposed to be packing to drive up to Gloucestershire with Isabelle for her birthday. I took the whole week off and forgot about it.

I don't like thinking about her. I still find myself doubting this all; that she's still in love with me and I can go back. That maybe Damon could actually have time to process his newfound freedom. I already feel like I'm taking advantage of his vulnerability.

Or maybe I should just take time to be single. I think I latched onto Damon because he was there to latch onto. At first.

He's important to me. I only want to see him anymore. I only want to hear _his_ voice and kiss _his_ lips. I was ready to tell him I loved him last night. And I really think I do. What changed?

I get out and shake my head of those thoughts. I want to have a happy day with my Damon- even if we don't do anything.

"Goodmorning," I hum, kissing Damon on the temple. He's sitting at the bar, scribbling on a sheet of paper.

"Hi."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Writing a song."

"Oh." I sit down next to him, running my fingers through my wet hair. "I didn't know you did that."

"I do it sometimes."

"I'd love to hear you."

"I'm shit."

"Not really."

He shrugs and leans back in his seat. My eyes fall on the paper, trying to decipher any words I could. His handwriting is scratchy and the margins are filled with doodles.

"Can I read it?"

"When it's finished."

"Alright." I stare at him for a moment as he starts another doodle. "Damon?"

"Yes?" He doesn't look at me.

"Um," I clear my throat,"I was thinking that, um, well, after last night I," I look to my hands. "I want to take you...somewhere else. Where we can see stars and pick wildflowers."

"Is this part of the scheme to run away?"

"Potentially." I prop up my face with my hand. He turns to face me.

"Where would you like to go?"

"Well, there's this village in Gloucestershire where my family owns land. There's a little cottage there with a cute garden and a pond. Figured it was up your alley."

"That sounds amazing, Gra. I'd love to go. When would we leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"What would we do there?"

"I don't know, really. I took the whole week off work, and I've been putting off asking you. Then I realized the date in the shower just now and I panicked,"I laugh, hoping that will convince him. "We can take my guitar and my painting stuff. You can bring your journal."

He smiles ear to ear. The butterflies in my stomach and chest flutter.

"I would love that more than anything, Graham. I can't wait to go."

"And maybe," I grab his hand, "maybe we can have a little extra fun." I wink, making him laugh.

"Well, if that's the case, we definitely need to go to the drugstore."

"Oh, yeah, probably. But we need to shop anyway," I shrug, "I don't want to leave the cottage once we get there."

"That's fine."

"Perfect."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut in this, by the way. Skip it if you want, but I know y'all are horny bastards.

The drive up to the village isn't long. Graham and I packed up last night and set out this morning. He drives with his hand on my thigh, singing to the Pixies tape he put in not long ago.

I've been drifting off to sleep as he talks to me. I'm not used to getting up before ten o'clock.

In my half-asleep state, I hear him laugh and turn up the radio just a little. He sings a few words and rubs my leg gingerly. I smile and let out a yawn.

"You're awake?"

"Mhm, yeah," I yawn again.

"We're just about there."

"Good." I look up and out the window, watching the greenery as it passes. "When did you plan this?"

"A while ago."

"It had to have been if you got a week off."

"Yeah." There is a change in his tone--his tired, happy voice somber.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiles. I pull his hand to my lips and give each knuckle a gentle kiss.

"Are you nervous?"

"What do you mean? Nervous about what?"

"Spending this long alone with me."

"We spend days upon days with each other. We'll be fine."

"Yeah, but if I get annoying you can go home."

"You never get annoying, baby," he teases.

"Shut up," I laugh.

"No," he hums, "I'm excited. I have places to show you and things for us to do."

"What kind of things?"

"You'll have to find out later." He squeezes my thigh.

"Mh, I don't want to wait."

"You really are touch starved, aren't you?"

"Shut up," I whine, closing my eyes again leaning against the window.

-

"Damon," Graham's voice echoes sweetly in my ears. I yawn and stretch my arms above my head.

"Hm?"

"We're here."

I open my eyes and look around, a little bit disoriented. There's greenery forever in front of me, and a gorgeous home to the left. It's large, with Tudors running up the walls and framing the windows. It's quite a normal sight in England, but it's refreshing from the dreary city I call home.

"Already?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "You slept a lot of the drive."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. You need the rest."

I nod. He smiles at me and pushes his door open, getting out.

We quickly bring our things inside. I throw myself onto our bed, stretching out my muscles then flip onto my stomach.

"How are you tired?"

"I don't know. I just want to cuddle and sleep."

"I'm down for that," he laugh, sitting next to me.

"Good." I wrap an arm around his belly. He adjusts to lie down.

"I was thinking we could have a picnic down by the pond this afternoon."

"That sounds lovely."

"Maybe we can make dinner and take it down there."

"Mhm, "I mumble, trying my best to stay engaged. I feel like my soul is leaving my body. Graham sighs in content and pulls my body closer as I fall asleep.

-  
You'd think after all of this, I wouldn't be having those dreams about Graham. The ones I had when I was still with Justine; about kissing him and being held by him. But this time, he let me touch him. He didn't feel as far off as he used to.

Maybe it's the way he held my thigh in the car or the hand resting on my ass-- but I'm craving his touch to the point that I'm dreaming about it. I'd hope he feels the same.

When I fully wake up, my eyes land on him. He's still asleep. There's something about the springtime sun that just makes him so beautiful.

I gently run my fingertips up his side, taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes once more. He's always smelled like spring to me. One of those smells you can't name but it feels safe. The mixture of that and the scent of this old house feel like I'm at home.

I feel his grip on me tighten.

"Good morning," he hums and kisses my head.

"Mh, same to you."

"How did you sleep, angel?"

"Great," I grin, kissing his lips.

"Good." He closes his eyes again, his fingertips gently drawing circles on my skin. "We should get up. It has to be lunchtime by now."

"It is," I say, turning to look back at the clock on the wall. "Well, it's hardly noon, but it'll be closer to one by the time we finally eat."

I stare at him for a second, waiting for him to get up. He doesn't.

"Gra."

He doesn't move.

"Dammit, Coxon, get up."

"I am."

He's harder to wake up than my teenage sister.

"Hmph, whatever."

I get up out of bed and make my way to the shower. It's old and rickety and hardly works, but the water is hot.

When I'm done, I decide to wander out onto the back porch. It faces South, down a hill and to the pond and cottage guest-house Graham had told me about. I close my eyes and feel the late-April breeze run through my hair and push against my skin.

It's nice, though I can't help but feel empty again. I shouldn't feel sad; I'm here, in this cute little town, with the boy I'm falling for. I just hate being alone.

I've said it before-- Graham is a splash of cold water. He makes me feel alive again. He's shocked me back to life.

I haven't told him this, but I've been spending time with Alex when Graham's away. Not in the way Justine spent time with her friends. But just because I need to be around someone or I'll go mad.

I don't know what made me so apprehensive against him. He's a great guy, he's just lonely. His mum's been getting sick a lot more lately, and he's worried he's going to lose her, too. I should have listened to Graham sooner.

I take a deep breath, the scent of wildflowers and maple. I don't want to carry this anymore. I left Justine and I'm more or less in a relationship with someone I trust--why am I still feeling it?

Graham's the only thing that takes it away. I can't even drink anymore.

"Baby," Graham hums, wrapping his arms around me from behind. He kisses the nape of my neck.

"Hi," I greet, a little shocked.

"Is that my jumper?"

"Does it matter?"

"No." He continues to leave kisses on my neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall back asleep."

"It's okay." I turn to face him, planting a kiss on his lips. "Let's make lunch, yeah?"

It is around one-thirty when Graham and I set up our picnic by the pond. I sit with my legs spread apart and Graham's head on my thigh. I run my fingers through his hair as he reads _Moon Palace_ aloud to me. I listen intently as I feed him occasionally, feeling myself fall more and more in love.

I sigh in content before staring down at him. His eyes don't leave the page. I hold his hand in mine, my eyes just taking in the beauty in front of me. He truly leaves me in awe.

This is cheesy and it is cliché, but I knew he'd mean a lot to me after that night I met him. I want to stay this way forever. Alone with him, away from any potential harm. Away from the traces of my past life that litter my home; away from Isabelle taunting the poor man. His plan to leave becomes more and more exciting as time moves on.

"Dames?"

My heart flutters.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You."

"Bullshit," he laughs, closing the book and laying it on his chest.

"It's not." I pull his hand to my lips, pressing kisses to his knuckles. "I'm just thinking about running away with you."

"Would you really want to?"

"If we didn't have lives outside of this, yes."

He smiles. I kiss his knuckles again before resting our hands back on his chest.

"You're so pretty, baby," I say, running my fingers through his hair again. He closes his eyes, that smile still glued on his face.

"Thank you."

I lean down to kiss him, his hand going to my face. He smiles against my lips, making me laugh.

"You know," he starts, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. "If my family knew I was here with my secret gay lover, they'd lose their minds."

"Perfect," I laugh, kissing him again. "That's the exact reason we should shag in that bed."

"Yeah."

I notice his expression change.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "It's Isabelle's birthday today."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. Thinking about my family always makes me think of her and it bums me out. They love her."

"It's okay, babe."

He gives me a half-smile.

"Thanks. No more mopey shit, though. I brought you here to have fun."

It always makes me laugh when he curses.

"And it's fun we will have," I giggle and pop a grape into my mouth. That makes him laugh. "Let's upset your family some more."

He laughs and leans in to kiss me. His hand returns to my cheek while his other holds onto my shirt. I pull away gently and grin down at him.

"What?" He laughs. I stare at him for a second before slipping his thumb between my lips. He goes quiet and watches me. Closing my eyes, I lightly suck on it and twirl my tongue. He lets out a little whimper, making me pull away and laugh.

"Don't tease me," he whines.

"Come here." I lean down and kiss him, Graham immediately slipping his tongue between my lips. He props himself up and pushes me back so he's more on top of me.

Graham's dominance always surprises me. When I met him, he was so timid and shy; and when we get physical--even now-- he's still pretty nervous. So it always catches me off guard when he's the one on top.

He pulls away, staring down at me. His lips part as if he's going to speak--but he doesn't. Instead, he presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him more room. His mouth moves down my jaw bone then down my throat. His hand moves down my side and up my jumper.

Graham starts to suck a lovebite into my skin and I go to stop him, but I don't need to worry about anyone seeing it. He shifts his weight to hover above me, still sucking on my skin. I slide my hand up the back of his shirt, gently running my hands up and down his spine. He stops again.

Our eyes meet, a petite grin on his lips.

"How did I get so lucky?"

"What do you mean by that?'

His eyes scan over my face, his breaths soft. He presses another kiss to my lips-- this one more gentle. His eyes stay closed when he pulls away, a smile still on his lips.

I close my eyes and lean into him. The sound of his breathing fills my eardrums. The wind blows against us, the leaves of the trees shaking. It's bliss.

"Damon?"

"Yeah?" I ask, not moving from my spot.

"How did you make me fall for you this hard?"

"Good question."

"I'm serious. Everything with you is so," he pauses as if trying to find the right word. "Perfect."

I open my eyes and prop myself up to look at him.

"Maybe it's just right."

"Maybe." He opens his eyes and looks up at me.

"I think the perfect thing here is you."

"Oh, fuck off."

"It's true."

We both sigh, both of us at peace. I stare out over the pond at the ducks and the foliage.

"You ever swam in there?"

"When I was ten or so. It was disgusting."

"Shame."

"We didn't even bring things to swim."

"That wouldn't matter."

"I guess so," he shrugs. "Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

I lay back down and snuggle close to him, breathing in his warmth. He kisses the top of my head, then my forehead, my nose, and my cheeks. Another on my lips--then another and another. Our legs intertwine, as well as my fingers in his hair; I know he likes that. He moves his hand from my hip to the underside of my thigh.

We lie there for what felt like hours. Snogging and touching each other with the occasional break for conversation and to snack on the fruits we'd packed. We feed the ducks from the packages of oats and seeds I made Graham buy when he told me there'd be ducks. He made lovebites on my collarbones and chest. I feel like I'm a stupid, horny teenager again.

Graham now sits with his legs crossed and my head in his lap--similar to the way we sat when we first came down. He reads to me again while I play with his free hand. It's taking everything in me to not tease him the way I did before just to see his reaction.

Instead, I just relax and listen to my boy's voice. It's so soothing. Every word that leaves his mouth is magic. The way he looks in the orange sunset lighting with his hair falling in his face and his glasses slipping down his nose. He truly is perfect.

"When do you want to head back?" I ask.

"Mm, I don't know. I don't really want to," he reaches into our basket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting it, he takes a puff and passes it to me.

I look up to the sky, admiring the orange-pink evening clouds.

"You should let me paint you."

"Yeah. I've never seen you work before."

"I usually only do it when no one's around."

"I can't wait to be your muse."

He hums in response, picking up _Moon Palace_ once more.

"Can I pose naked?"

"Only if you want to."

That's not the response I was hoping for.

"You should be naked too, it's only fair."

"Damon," he laughs.

"What?" I protest.

"Nothing, you're just cute."

"You always say that."

" 'Cause it's true." He rests his hand on my cheek, gently caressing the skin.

"Sappy." I pull the cigarette from his lips and take a drag.

"You love it."

"You're right, " I sigh. "I've got a question."

"And what is that, my love?"

It's hard not to smile like a dumb little kid when he calls me names like that.

"If we run away-"

"When."

"When we run away, what will we do?"

"Change our names," he rests his hand back on my cheek, gently pressing his thumb to my lips. "Live in a little house somewhere. I'll sell my art and you'll write me pretty songs. Maybe we could raise some chickens."

"Chickens?"

"Chickens."

I smile, shaking my head.

"You're beautiful. "

"You've told me that."

"Do you believe me?"

He shrugs, slipping the cigarette into my mouth.

"We should probably quit smoking."

"Probably," I say.

"When we get chickens."

"Or when it kills us."

"Whatever comes first."

-

Earlier this evening, the sky turned gray and it started to rain. Graham and I raced inside.

I totally beat him home, by the way.

I now sit at the bar, watching Graham cook. I put on a record not long ago.

"Come here," he grins opening his arms for me. I scurry over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist tight.

My lips went immediately to his neck. It made him laugh.

"Stop laughing, I'm trying to seduce you."

"You don't need to try, baby."

"You know, you make my knees weak every time you say that."

I run my finger down his jawline, staring up at him.

"Maybe that's the goal."

"Cheeky bastard."

He kisses me, cupping my face with both hands. My hands stays put on his waist, gently drawing shapes with my fingers under his shirt.

Graham's hand slowly creeps down my body, eventually grabbing my hip and squeezing. I let out a quiet whimper, pulling myself closer.

"We can't do this now," he mumbles after a while.

"Why not?" I sigh, pressing kisses to his jaw. We were both breathless and wanting.

"Food's almost done."

I glance at the timer, sighing.

"We have five minutes, I can get work done in that time."

"I forgot you're a professional," he laughs.

"I'm not a professional, I've just been sucking dick since I was fifteen."

"Right, sorry," he laughs again. It makes my heart pound. I grab his hand and pull him to the sofa, immediately crawling in his lap.

I kiss him again, gently grinding my hips against him. He groans and grabs at them.

He was hard now, pressing against my leg. I kiss him once more and sink down onto my knees.

"God, you're beautiful," he smiles, leaning his head back. I just laugh and shake my head before inching his pants down.

I lean down and press a few kisses to his thighs. Gazing up at him, I part my lips and press them to the tip of his dick. Graham gasps and moans, running his fingers through my hair.

"Christ, Damon."

I try not to laugh at his desperation, since I know I'm just as desperate.

I take more of him into my mouth. He bucks his hips up slightly, and my hands go to them to hold them down.

I feel him tug on my hair and listen to the soft, quiet noises he makes.

"God," he whimpers, his thumb resting on my cheek. "God, you're so hot."

I pull off and use my hand to jerk him off, my eyes never leaving his. I smirk, trying not to laugh. He's so cute yet so damn sexy--I don't understand how he does it.

"You like this?"

"Mmhm," he whines. I go back down on him, moving quickly. Keeping one hand on his cock and the other on his hip, I take as much in as I can.

"Oh, oh baby, I'm so close."

I nod and pick up my pace even more. Both of his hands are in my hair, tugging.

His legs try to shut around me and his moans get louder and shorter, telling me how close he really is. I lean up on my knees and pull him out of my mouth, using my hand to finish him off.

When he comes, he moans out my name and pulls at my hair hard. I sit back on my legs, biting my lip and smiling up at him.

He's sat back with his hands rested on his belly, completely breathless.

"It really has been a while, hasn't it?" I tease.

"Whatever, I'll be having you for dessert."

Not a moment later, the buzzer for the oven went off.

"I'll get it. You stay here and I'll get you a towel, okay?"

He nods. I stand and go to the kitchen.

I return a moment later with a washrag and a plate for us to share.

"I'm an idiot," Graham laughs after pulling his pants back up.

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't believe I waited that long to let you do that."

"Oh," I shake my head, "it's okay. You didn't think you were ready to be that intimate with me. That's not your fault."

I don't have the heart to tell him that I've secretly been dying for the day he told me he wanted to.

"You're amazing, baby," he hums, taking a slice of pizza off the plate. "What should we watch tonight?"

"What movies do we have here?" I ask, leaning back in my seat.

"Well, my brother left all of his classic horror movies here."

"You have a brother?"

"Oh, yeah. I have two."

"Oh."

Why didn't know that?

" _Night of The Living Dead_?"

"Oh, sure," I smile. He kisses me quickly and goes to find it.

He comes back and puts it in the player. I smile at him.

"Thank you, baby."

Graham sits next to me, laying his head on my shoulder.

We sit there for a while, eating our food, drinking our wine, and sharing small kisses while we watch the movie.

"Baby," he hums, about halfway through. Both of us are drunk by now, but only enough to make things just a little bit funnier. We both lie on the couch, Graham's head on my chest and my fingers in his hair.

"Hm?" I ask.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah," I giggle.

"I think I love you."

I stare at him for a moment, a smile on my lips.

"You think?"

"Yes," he hums, kissing my chest.

"Well, I think I love you."

He sighs happily, nuzzling his face to my chest.

"Want to go lay down?"

"Yeah." My eyes close, soft exhale leaving my lungs.

"C'mon, baby," he laughs.

"I want a smoke first."

"Okay, just come on."

Graham holds my hand and pulls me to the patio.

"I love you," I tell him as we take a seat on the porch swing.

"I love you."

He pulls out his cigarettes and passes me one.

I don't know how to express how happy I feel in this moment. I have the boy that I love here with me, and I don't need to be afraid or ashamed. We're drunk and happy, basking in each other's presence.

"I'm so tired," he sighs, leaning into me again. "I wanna cuddle you 'n' snuggle you."

I smile at him, mesmerized by the man in front of me. All of his features, the soft blush in his cheeks, the sparkle in his eyes from the porchlight. The sound of his voice in my ears. I love him so much.

"We can."

I hold his hand in mine, playing with his fingers. We make eye contact, a small smile forming on his lips.

"How aren't you sick of me yet?" I ask.

"Hm, I don't know. You are pretty irritating."

"Hey," I pout.

"I'm kidding," he laughs. "You're just," he pauses, scrunching up his face. "Sweet."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Sweet and goofy."

"Goofy?"

"Yeah," he smiles. "I love you."

"Let's go inside, "I say, putting my cigarette out.

"Are you gonna go down on me again?" He giggles, following me inside.

"I wasn't going to, but I will."

"Oh, please."

"I don't remember you being such a horny drunk."

"Only for you," he giggles.

"Whatever, cutie. Go lay down, I'll be in in a sec."

He kisses me and goes off to our bedroom.

I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, watching him go. I don't know what I did to deserve him.

"Damon?"He calls. "Come on!"

"I'm comin'!"

I pour myself a shot and take it before running to our room, taking my shirt off.

"Come here."

"Mh, I'm here."

He pulls me onto his lap, kissing me.

"You're cute when you're all desperate."

"Sh, kiss me."

I kiss him again, pushing him back against the headboard. His hands find their way down my body, one squeezing my ass. I pull away from the kiss to laugh, but Graham pulls me back in.

"I want you, Damon."

I practically melt right there.

"Take me then."

Graham groans and pulls me in closer by my hips. I've said it before, but his dominance always surprises me. His hands slip down my sweat pants, gently pulling them down. At this point, I want to let him do whatever he wants.

He grinds his hips up into mine, both of us groaning out loud. I can feel his hard-on against me, making me just as hard as he is. I lay down on his chest, moaning as he continues to grind up against me.

"I want you," he repeats. He has a sort of dazed look in his eyes--they're full of desperation.

I sit back and tug at his shirt, him quickly removing it.

"Jesus, I really gave you a lot of lovebites, didn't I?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "It's okay, though. 'M proud to wear them."

"They look good on you."

"I think you'd look good on me," he smirks, winking.

"Oh, God," I laugh.

"Please?"

I shake my head and slip down between his legs to take his pants off of him.

"Who do you want on top?"

"I just said-"

"No I mean like...do you want to bottom for me, or shall I do it for you?"

"Uh," he furrows his brows, "I can't imagine being on the bottom is very comfy."

"Oh," I giggle, shaking my head again. "It's great, but it takes more getting used to."

"I'll be on top, 'cause I've done that before."

I smile at him. It may be the alcohol, but every single thing he's doing is making my heart explode.

"Alright, love. Do you know what to do?"

"No," he sits up, smirking. "You'll have to teach me."

"God, you drive me crazy."

He only shrugs, laying back down.

I pull down his underwear and look up at him, scrunching up my face.

"What?"

"I think it's my turn."

"I don't know how to do it."

"I'll teach you, remember?"

"Damn you," he laughs. We change positions so he's between my legs with his hand cupping my dick. We kiss--Graham as forceful as he can be with a wine-drunk body.

"Mmh, that feels good."

"Good," he mumbles in my ear, gently stroking me over my briefs with his thumb. I grind my hips up, whining.

"Come on, Gra."

He shushes me, trying not to laugh.

"You called me desperate."

"Touch me," I whine.

He gently slides his hand down my briefs, causing me to whimper. His hands are unsure.

"It's okay, Gra. Just do what you think feels good, yeah?"

He nods, looking up at me and starting to move his hand on my cock. I moan and run my fingers through his hair. I've always loved that, especially when I got intimate with anyone--and _especially_ with Graham.

I tugged, harder than I meant to, but it made Graham moan. I smirk down at him.

"Hair pulling? That's hot," I laugh.

"Shush," he huffs, moving up so his body was fully beside me. He starts to pump faster, making me moan his name out.

"G-gra," I whimper, grabbing onto his arm.

"What? Does that feel good?" He teases.

"Uh-uh huh," I moan, laying my head against his chest. "I want you, right now."

He nods and stops his movements. He looks at me, his eyes nervous and a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Just touch me, okay?"

He kisses me again, doing that thing I love where he strokes my cheek with his thumb.

His other hand goes back to my cock, gently rubbing the head. I moan into our kiss, him using that to slip his tongue into my mouth.

Graham moves his hand down just a bit, trailing farther and farther down.

"Hold on," I say, breathless. I lean over into the bedside table and hand him the bottle of lube I'd bought at the store last night. "Here."

He stares at me, confused.

"If you don't use that on your fingers it's going to hurt me and I likely won't let you back down there again," I say bluntly.

"Oh," he laughs, laying back. "Duh."

I chuckle, taking his free hand in mine.

"It's okay."

He takes the bottle from me and rubs some on his fingers. I watch him intently, trying not to let my need take over. It has been an embarrassingly long time since I was touched, especially in the way I'm about to be.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, still nervous and flustered.

"Go ahead."

He nods and kisses me, gently pushing one finger against me. I spread my legs a little bit farther apart, whining as he presses his finger inside of me.

I can feel how nervous he is. Pressing another soft kiss to his mouth, I grab onto his other hand and smile up at him.

"You're doing great, honey."

Graham's eyes meet mine and moves his hand quicker.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"N-no," I moan, gripping his hand tighter. "Feels good, k-keep going," I whine.

He kisses my forehead before slipping another finger in. He's gentle and slow, and I am definitely appreciative. As I said, it's been a while.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"Are you?"

"Yeah, I want you. Please."

He sits back and I grab the bottle of lube, sitting between his legs. His eyes meet mine again, full of lust and need.

I kiss him before squirting some lube into my hand and gently stroking him. He moans into the kiss, holding onto me tight.

"Are you okay?" I ask, kissing his head.

"I'm great," he says with a breathless laugh. I smile and kiss him again. As I push up on my knees to straddle him, Graham holds onto my hips and stares up at me.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"You're good with this?"

"Mhm," he nods, almost whining. "Please."

It was partially to make one-hundred percent sure that he is ready, but also partially for the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

Slowly, I lower myself onto him, making both of us moan. I look down at Graham, whose eyes are shut and has heavy breaths leaving his lips.

"You good?"

"Yeah," he whimpers, holding my hips. "Keep going."

I grind my hips down against his, moaning again.

"God, baby," he groans, almost laughing. "You're amazing."

"I've hardly done anything," I laugh, resting my hands on his shoulders.

"Proves how amazing you are."

"Hmm," I hum, slowly moving my hips up and down. Graham was whimpering and mumbling sweet nothings under me, but my brain can focus on nothing but everything I'm feeling.

Graham bucks his hips up making me let out a low groan. He does it again a few more times, both of our moans getting louder and quicker.

"Baby," he whines. His hands rest on my hips. He sits up a bit, pushing me back gently. "Lay back."

I gladly oblige, spreading my legs apart to better fit him.

"Oh, fuck," I groan as he pushes all the way into me. He bites at his bottom lip, eyes still closed and heavy breaths coming from him.

He adjusts a little and moves his hips faster. I reach up for his hands, begging for as much touch as I can get.

He holds my hand over my head, hovering over me and holding my leg back. I feel his lips against my neck, his warm breath sending chills down my spine.

He picks up his pace even more, adjusting slightly, driving me mad.

"Graham!" I moan, throwing my head back. He pulls away for a moment staring down at me, breaths heavy.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, don't stop please." I pull him back down to kiss me.

He starts moving again, hitting the same spot as before.

"Christ, Gra, right there," I moan, bucking my hips up. My hand finds its way south, gently stroking my own cock.

He thrusts harder, making me moan right in his ear. He then groans and starts leaving more kisses on my neck.

"Are you close?" He asks.

"Mhm," I whine, pumping my hand faster. "Keep going, get me there."

Graham sits back, positioning one of my legs around his waist. I stare up at him, feeling love envelop every fiber of my body. He looks so beautiful there; his eyes closed, lovebites on his neck and chest, his shaggy hair all sweaty and bouncing against his forehead with every movement. The sounds from his lips that I didn't know I so desperately need to hear, the beautiful pink glow in his pale skin.

I feel loved with him.

"Baby," he moans in my ear, "I'm gonna come."

"Me too."

I watch him as he moves his hips into mine. He closes his eyes again and bites down on his tongue, thrusting his hips up hard.

"Gra," I moan out. I feel my body tense up, and I'm so close to my climax.

He slows his pace and hovers over me again. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Both of our moans are quieter and more shallow, and I know how close I am.

No more than a moment later, I come, leaning my head back and moaning out for him.

I lie there, basking in the pleasure I'd just felt. Graham still held me by my hips, driving into me and riding out his orgasm.

"Shit," he laughs, laying next to me. "I can't believe I waited that long for that."

"Where the hell did you learn to fuck like that?" I ask, turning to him, filled with disbelief.

"Dunno," he shrugs. "I just did things that felt good."

I lay back down, resting my hands on my chest.

"I haven't had sex that good in years."

"You flatter me," he laughs. "Want to take a shower?"

"Yeah."

He and I shower together. He lets me wash his hair since he knows I love to play with it.

Afterwards, we both cuddle up in bed and he reads _Moon Palace_ to me again. I light a cigarette and take a long drag. I sit and relish in the love I've felt with this boy. Not the puppy love I'd felt before, nor the fake love I had with past partners. Real love.

"You probably shouldn't smoke in here," he tells me. "My family would kill me."

"And they wouldn't kill you for shagging your secret gay lover in their heirloom sheets?"

"Touché," he laughs, taking a drag from my cigarette.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. 16

"I don't want to leave yet," I yawn.

"I know," Graham sighs, holding my face with one hand. "We've got so much to worry about back home."

"I know. We could just not go back. Really run away."

"That sounds lovely."

"Why don't we?"

"Where would we go? Really? I don't have much money."

"We could go to my mum's for a while," I shrug, cuddling close to him. He pulls the cover up over his chest. "Until we have some money. Then we could go live in the middle of no where. France?"

"We could."

"I need to stop by home first."

"Okay," he smiles. 

He and I make breakfast and eat it huddled up in the window bench, overlooking the garden. Rain falls as it does every other dreary English morning, drops pitter-pattering the windows.

We told each other we love each other that first night here.

"You're thinking," he comments, placing his fork down.

"Yeah," I nod with a sigh. "I just don't want to go home. Back to a job search and rent and getting divorced. My life is kind of ugly right now."

He smiles, "it's okay. Mine too. I've got one friend and I don't really like him all that much."

"It's okay, he doesn't like you either," I wink. His hand rests on mine, a gentle grin resting on his lips.

A moment later, he stands to take our dishes. My eyes wander out over garden, into the forest, toward the pond. Memories from those moments just two days ago dance around my mind, and the realization of how _real_ they are. I haven't had that in so long.

To snap me from my reminiscence, Graham slips in next to me and kisses my temple.

"Hey," I smile.

"I think we should hit the road by three or four."

"Yeah."

"Maybe we need to make trips like this more often. I like seeing you this happy."

Graham has become so confident in his words lately. I'm proud of him.

"I like being this happy."

"Me too."

The drive was uneventful. Graham did his usual hand-on-thigh and sang to me under his breath, unaware that I was listening. He had a New Order tape in the car that he told me his sister got him before he moved away.

We arrive at sundown, just as the sun sinks beneath the London skyline. My legs and hips hurt from the drive, but I couldn't bring myself to complain.

I notice the doormat askew, but don't think anything of it until I try to unlock the door, only to find it had been unlocked. Graham looks at me in confusion.

"Alex?"

"I don't know him well enough to tell him where my key is."

"Jamie?"

"Maybe," I shrug, twisting the doorknob. The lights are off, aside from light from my bedroom and the hallway bathroom illuminating the floors and ceiling. "Hello?"

"Damon?" A familiar voice asks. It's body appears in the bedroom door frame, disheveled.

"What are you doing?"I ask.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. I needed to come by to get something and you weren't answering. I got worried," she cried, coming to me and throwing her arms around me tight. "Where did you go?"

"How...how did you get in here?"

"I, uh," she shakes her head, gazing down at the floor and covering her eyes with one hand. "I still have keys."

"Oh."

"Damon, I need to talk to you about some things. A lot of things." Her voice is soft and melancholy. She's wearing her dad's army jacket and a pair of blue jeans. She looks and sounds like the old Justine. 

I glance back at Graham, who sports a sad but supportive smile.

"I'm sorry, Graham."

Both of us look at her, almost in sync. She swallows hard. Her arms fold over her chest, nerves encapsulating her.

"I treated you really unfairly. I was always so caught up in my own head and what I was doing, that I never thought about you and your emotions or Damon and his. That isn't an excuse, just what I hope is an explanation."

"I," Graham sighs, "you're okay. I forgive you for that."

She turns to me, then glances to Graham.

"Do you mind if I steal him for a moment?"

He shakes his head and Justine guides me to my bedroom. For me, Justine is pushed out of my memories here--it's all Graham. The nights we spent here, the nights we will. Sick days. Lazy, rainy days. I can't imagine what she feels.

"It's weird being here," she finally says, taking a seat on the mattress. "I never thought I'd be here again, after I got all of my things."

"Yeah."

"Where did you and Graham go?" She asks, clearly trying to break the ice. Only, that ice is one hundred feet deep and coated in decades worth of permafrost.

"A little cottage up North."

"Oh, that's sweet. Did you guys take pictures?"

"A few," I shrugged. I find myself making myself small again, in the way I did before. My knees to my chest, biting on the knuckle of my thumb.

"Was it fun?"

"Justine," I sigh, "why are you here?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"No, no, it's more than that."

I stare at her a moment, confused. She takes note and looks away from me.

"I left him."

I try my best not to say what I'm thinking. I'm still so angry with her.

"I know what you're thinking. Heinous, self-righteous bitch cheats on the love of her life with rich man and then leaves him. I have no right to be sad or angry about the things that happened with him when I did everything he did to me, to you. But worse. Karma really is a bitch."

"That isn't necessarily true," I tell her, releasing one of my legs onto the mattress.

"I didn't come here to cry to you. I didn't come here to beg you to take me back or beg for your forgiveness. I came to talk through some things."

"Okay," I nodded. I wonder what Graham's doing.

She sighs. She's beautiful to me, still, but it isn't the same. She's beautiful in some distant, dreamlike way. Blurry nostalgia.

"I left him after he disappeared on me. He called me and told me he met another girl he wanted to bring home. I told him I was leaving, and I did."

"Christ. Where have you been staying?"

"With my mum."

"I'm sorry," I say. "Dishonesty is the worst."

She ignores my comment.

"But I've been thinking. About a lot. You."

I stay silent.

"I met him and I turned into a ghost. I abandoned you. You are the best person I've ever known. Even if you're not the person you used to be, you still have a big heart and you mean so well. I took advantage of that." She shook her head. Her voice rattled.

"I treated you the way he treated me. Again, please don't think that's an excuse. You deserve so much better than that, Damon. I thought that, you know, 'he loves me, so he'll forgive me.' I abused that. I told myself every time that it was the last time."

"Justine, you don't deserve that either."

"These days, I think I do. I think I got what was coming to me."

"You think so?" I ask softly.

"Yeah. Even before, I still kind of treated you poorly. I wasn't the partner I could have been. But you somehow stayed loyal to me. I hate myself for that."

"We were so young. We really didn't know any better. You can't beat yourself up for that."

"I know," she sighs. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just feeling really shitty for everything. I needed to tell you. You deserve so much better than anything I could have ever given you."

"Thank you."

"I know we probably can't be friends, but I hope you and I can stay in each other's lives."

"Me too," I nod. I'm not sure how I feel about all of it, but Justine isn't one to wait for an answer. She had a nack for asking unanswerable questions.

"And I want you to know that I love you. Dearly. I love you like I've never loved anyone before or will ever love. But it isn't the same love, you know?"

"Yeah," I say, cracking a smile. I feel the same for her. "And I love you."

She leans in and squeezes my hand.

"Thank you, Damon."

"You're welcome. And, you aren't a self-righteous bitch, by the way."

"Right," she laughs. I glance over at the window, watching the curtains sway in the slight breeze of the air vent on the floor.

"Why did you let me keep this place?"

"I had somewhere to go."

"Do you still?"

"My mum's."

"That isn't what I meant."

"I know."

I bite down on the inside of my bottom lip.

"I don't really. I cut all of my friends out of my life. They didn't really love me."

"You have people who love you, you know."

"I know."

I think her and I both went through the memories before she'd met him. When we would go out with everyone; Jamie and whoever his girlfriend that week was, Dave--even my sister sometimes, too. Justine's friends. When we went cliff jumping or the night we drove to the middle of no where and shot off fireworks. All the fun we had.

"Graham treats you well?"

"Justine."

She doesn't look at me.

"Go home. Home home. Visit everyone. You need it."

She nods.

"Talk to me about Graham, please. "

"Why?"

"I don't know anything about him."

"Oh," I sighed. "I love him."

"Does he treat you well?"

"He does. He's wonderful, really. We're both a little scatterbrained but in the opposite way from each other.He's so creative and...and he's caring, you know? Deals with my bullshit. Even deals with Jamie's shit."

"That's good. You deserve it."

"Thank you."

We're both silent for a while.

"He's so shy. He doesn't like it when I hold his hand in public. But he shows affection in other ways, like when he brings me food or suddenly takes me up north for a getaway. He likes touch, but he shows his love in so many other ways."

I'm not sure how to read her expression. A sort of joyful disdain.

"I'm happy for you."

"Thank you."

I watch her just exist for a moment. She doesn't feel real. She's not the person she was those few months ago. She doesn't seem to be who she was before then. She's new, but closer to the way she was when I fell in love with her.

"Justine," I mutter. She looks over at me with a quizzical look. I open my arms.

Her body melts into mine. I hold her there, tightly, and she holds me back. I don't want to cry, but I might.

There's a crash of sound from the kitchen, jolting both of us up and snapping us back to reality.

"Graham?" I ask, peering into the room.

"I dropped the cookie sheet," he laughs. "I was trying to make us some food."

"Oh, honey," I laugh, going to him. "You're too cute."

Justine follows me and has a seat at the bar.

"I take it we're all friends again?"

"No, I hate Damon," Justine scoffs.

"Yeah, she disgusts me. I can't wait until she leaves so we can talk shit about her."

Graham laughs lightly and shakes his head. I can tell he doesn't want her here by the way he stands. His back faces her, and he's quiet. He talked my ear off in the car. He's usually shy, yes, but this is different.

"I'll talk to you about it later," I whisper to him. He nods and I kiss his cheek.

"I love you," I whisper again.

"I love you too."

I smile up at him before moving to allow him to cook.

"What are you making?"

"Soup."

"That's clear," I laugh, "what kind?"

"Broccoli cheese."

"Mm," I hum, wrapping my arms around him from behind. "Sounds tasty."

"Yeah."

I lay my face at the nape of his neck.

"Oh, you guys are cute," Justine coos.

"Shh," I giggle.

"Babe," Graham sighs. I stop and look at him over his shoulder. He doesn't look at me.

Sighing, I let him go and sit next to Justine.

"He's tired," I tell her. "We had a long day."

"That's okay," she smiles. "You guys don't have to feed me. I just wanted to stop by, say hello, clear the air a bit."

"You can stay for dinner," I shrug. "We really don't mind."

"No, we don't."

Justine gives me a sad smile.

"Are you sure it's okay?" she whispers. 

"Yeah."

Graham finishes cooking and we sit in silence as we eat. He said he'd forgiven her, but I don't think he has. I haven't, and I know that for sure. Being alone is still agonizing, and it's her doing.

"Do you want me to give you my key?" Justine eventually asked.

"Yeah," I say. "Just, uh, give it to Graham before you go. I've been meaning to give him one but I keep forgetting."

Graham squeezes my leg.

"Will do."

The room is silent enough to hear a pin drop, and the tension could be slit with a knife. I haven't seen Graham like this in a very long time.

The sound of Justine resting her spoon against her bowl is nearly deafening.

She clears her throat.

"I guess I should be going now."

I look to Graham, then to Justine.

"Thank you for dinner."

"Yeah," he grins.

"I'll walk you down," I tell her, standing from my seat. She helps me collect dishes.

After I close the door behind me, Justine and I walk down to the lift.

"Graham is really good at that cold shoulder thing."

"Yeah," I shrug. "I'm sorry."

"No, he's got every right to do that. He and I don't necessarily have a nice history."

"I know."

We stand in the lift silently.

I feel her eyes on me, then hear her take in a sharp breath. As I face her, she wipes her eye.

"Justine-"

"I'm sorry. I'm fine, I-I'm sorry."

"Justine."

She stops and looks at me.

"I don't want him to hate me."

"I know."

"I don't want you to hate me, either. But you know, I deserve that. I deserve his hate, too. I just...I wish he and I met differently."

"I know. But we can't change that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Give it time."

"Do you hate me?"

"I don't know."

"Damon," she sighed. 

"I don't think I hate you. I can't get into everything right now, but you...you really hurt me, Justine. It'll take some healing and some time."

"I know. I know that. I hate myself for it."

"I can't do anything for you."

She stays quiet. We stand in front of the entrance to the building.

"I don't know what I was thinking, coming here."

"It just wasn't the best time."

"What happened to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You used to be so caring, and you'd at least pretend you cared about what I had to say."

"No, Justine. I'm not the one who changed. I'm just not letting you manipulate me anymore."

"God, Damon. That is not what I'm here for!"

"That's what you said."

With a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry. I'm working on being less angry and mean."

I shrug and give her a small smile, "it was nice to see you."

"You too," she says, waving me off and getting into her car.

-

Later, I go up to Alex's apartment. Graham was tired and went to bed.

He greets me with a warm smile. His apartment smells like cinnamon.

"Hey Damon."

"Hi."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah."

He stares for a second, a slim smile.

"Come in," he says, moving to the side. I follow him in, keeping my arms folded over my chest. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"When...when you kissed me and I freaked out."

"Oh, no, Damon-"

"Don't do that," I sighed. "I just wanted you to know that it wasn't your fault I freaked. Justine just had me all-"

"I don't blame you."

I stop and stare again. He shrugs.

"I understood what happened the moment you left. She'd conviced you she was the victim."

"Yeah."

We're quiet again.

"Graham told me you liked me a while ago."

"I did."

He sat us down not long ago. I nervously chew on the skin on the inside of my cheek.

"But I saw you with him and I realized that he's right for you. I don't know either of you well, but when you see something from a distance for so long it's still obvious when there's a change. I saw you go from sad and unfriendly to genuinely happy."

"I guess." I look to my feet, acknowledging how my shoes touch the carpet and the scuffs on the soles. The fraying on the laces. "Why didn't you speak up sooner?"

"Justine is terrifying."

I laugh, "she can be."

"I still felt horrible for that. Kissing you, I mean. But I know that your reaction was beyond the two of us, you know? God, that sounds so self-righteous, but you get it."

"I appreciate it, though," I say, looking back up to his face. "This is kind of pathetic, but you're the first person who'd kissed me in a long time that it actually felt real. I felt like you _wanted_ to kiss me. It threw me off."

"Oh, sorry. "

"That's not really something to be sorry for."

Alex just shrugged.

"Listen," I sighed, "I'm sorry I was always so rude to you. I just saw you as some annoying neighbor. It was unfair of me. I really appreciate you nowadays."

"No worries, Damon. I always knew you had good in you."

I smile at him.

"How was your trip?"

"Good."

"Did you guys get down?"

"Get down?" I laugh, "what are you? Thirteen?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, we did. It was funny, it was like we were teenagers losing our virginities. But Graham is so sweet."

"He's still so awkward," Alex laughs. "It's good you two are together."

"I'd think so."

"Do you want a drink?"

"I'm okay,"I nod, shifting my weight to get more comfortable in my seat. He sits back, too.

"How have you been?"

"Great," I say. "I think that trip was really good for us. This sounds dumb, but I think it brought us closer and we kind of understand each other better now. It's nice."

"That's good," he nods with a thin lipped smile.

That following silence is awkward. What else am I supposed to say? I'm not even sure I want to pursue a friendship with him, but I may as well give it a shot, right?

So I sit there, in his lounge, listening to him talk about life while he drinks. He's pretty the way Justine is. They actually look similar in a way, which leaves a weird feeling in my stomach.

"Justine apologized,"I finally say.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's a surprise?"

"Yeah. She was real and honest and genuine."

"Don't let her weasel her way back into your life."

"I wouldn't. I'm still too hurt, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Um," I sigh, itching my head and looking away from him. "Thank you for letting me come up here and talk."

"Of course, man. Let me know if you ever need anything, okay?"

"Yeah," I smile. "I should probably get home. Graham's waiting."

"Go get your man," he laughs. I stand from my seat and wave goodbye, then head down the hallway.

Apologies are weird. They make you so nervous and ask you to swallow your pride. Not that I have much. But they always turn out okay. I understand Justine and Alex better, but I'd much rather Alex be in my life than Justine. I just wish I hadn't been so rude to him. 

"Damon?"A tired Graham asks from the couch.

"It's me," I yawn. "Let's go to sleep?"

"Yeah, " he mumbles, lazily slipping off the couch and hobbling his way to bed.

"Thank you for waiting for me," I finally say. I'm pretty sure he's asleep, but he nods and slips his hand into mine. "I love you."

"Love you too," he responds, kissing my shoulder. "Night."

"Goodnight."


End file.
